THE    YEAR    BOOK    OF 
AMERICAN    AUTHORS 


WASHINGTON   IRFIXG 
1783-1859 


[HE  YEAR  BOOK  OF 
(AMERICAN  AUTHORS 

WRITTEN  AND  COMPILED  BY 
IDA  SCOTT  TAYLOR  AND  IL- 
LUSTRATED WITH  TWELVE 
HALF  TONE  PORTRAITS  OF 
PROMINENT  AUTHORS 


NEW   YORK 

RAPHAEL  TUCK  AND   SONS 

COMPANY,   LIMITED 

MCMI 


COPYRIGHT   1894  BY 

RAPHAEL  TUCK  AND   SONS 

COMPANY,  LIMITED 


PREFATORY    NOTE 

STEP  by  step  the  author  and  compiler  of  this  little 
book  has  measured  the  days  of  the  year.  Not  a  page 
has  been  written  without  a  thought  of  the  possible 
reader,  and  an  earnest  desire  to  meet  the  daily  needs 
of  daily  life.  Such  subjects  have  been  touched  upon 
as  are  especially  dear  to  the  American  people.  The 
volume  is  not  meant  for  the  library  shelf,  but  for  the 
table  and  the  desk;  in  short,  for  a  daily  companion 

in  the  home. 

I.  S.  T. 


HE     YEAR-BOOK     OF 
AMERICAN   AUTHORS. 


JANUARY. 

A  DAY  OF  FRESH  BEGINNINGS! 

OH,  dawn  of  a  fair  New  Year,  we  stand  at  thy 
threshold  with  bright  hopes  and  eager  expecta- 
tions, peering  across  thy  sunlit  skies  with  wistful  won- 
dering gaze.  The  hills  of  anticipation  loom  up  before 
us,  distant  and  mysterious,  above  whose  lofty  peaks  we 
cannot  see,  across  whose  broadening  chain  we  may  not 
reach.  Beyond,  lurk  our  possibilities  and  opportunities. 
What  a  vast  army!  Could  they  assume  the  form  of 
soldiers,  what  a  countless  multitude  they  would  make  ; 
what  grand  battalions  of  love  and  mercy ;  what  a  caval- 
cade of  mounted  hopes  and  fears ;  what  squadrons  of 
failures  and  mistakes ;  what  glimmering  ranks  of  suc- 
cess;  and  what  defeated  hosts  of  pride  and  ambition! 
O  Year,  fling  out  your  rosy  banners  of  light,  and  screen 
the  future  from  our  view!  Content  will  we  stand  look- 
ing towards  the  sunlight  of  this  glad  new  day,  leaving 
God  to  order  all  our  ways.  What  lies  beyond  is  His  to 
know ;  our  part  to  patiently  wait  His  will,  and  trust  in 
Him  through  good  or  ill,  our  faces  ever  towards  the 
East  —  the  sunrise  City  of  the  soul. 

Janus  am  I ;  oldest  of  potentates! 

Forward  I  look  and  backward,  and  below 

I  count  —  as  god  of  avenues  and  gates  — 

The  years  that  through  my  portals  come  and  go. 

HENRY   W.   LONGFELLOW. 

[7] 


JANUARY    SECOND. 

GOD  alone  knoweth  the  Future.  We  cannot  tell  by 
what  has  been,  what  will  be.  We  may  not  un- 
ravel Heaven's  mysteries  or  peer  through  the  veil  of 
the  coming  years.  He  who  holds  the  key  to  the  por- 
tals of  Time  alone  may  unlock  the  dim  unseen,  and 
reveal  to  us  the  wonders  He  has  in  store  for  us.  Then 
let  us  leave  it  all  to  Him,  nor  weary  to  know  His  why 
or  when.  "  For  now  we  see  through  a  glass,  darkly ; 
but  then  face  to  face."  What  sweet  surprises  await  us ! 
What  treasures  are  laid  away  for  us !  What  jewels  are 
being  polished  for  our  crowns!  There  we  shall  find 
the  "  pearl  of  great  price  "  ;  and  rubies  of  wisdom,  and 
gold  tried  by  fire,  shall  add  their  brightness  and  beauty 
to  the  King's  Palace,  where  "  the  Lamb  is  the  light 
thereof."  Oh,  could  One  who  dwells  in  such  a  beautiful 
place  fail  to  care  for  His  own  ?  Is  not  our  future  safe 
with  Him? 

I  would  not  seek  the  veil  to  lift, 
Nor  make  that  knowledge  mine ; 

I  still  would  leave  all  in  His  hands, 
And  trust  His  care  divine. 

MARY  K.   BUCK. 

Yet  you  and  I 

Must  take  our  destiny  as  God  has  planned, 
And  as  we  lose  our  hold  of  earthly  love, 
Must  seek  to  cling  the  closer  to  His  hand. 

HATTIE  TYNG  GRISWOLD. 

God's  plans  like  lilies  pure  and  white  unfold ; 
We  must  not  tear  the  close-shut  leaves  apart ; 
Time  will  reveal  the  calyxes  of  gold. 

MAY   RILEY   SMITH. 
[8] 


JANUARY   THIRD. 

WATCH  therefore:   for  ye  know  not  what  hour 
your  Lord  doth  come.  —  MATTHEW  24 :  42. 


Therefore  be  ye  also  ready.  —  MATTHEW  24 :  44. 

I  pray, 
That  quietly  watchful,  I  may  hold 

The  key  of  a  golden  faith  each  day 
Fast  shut  in  my  grasp,  that  when  I  hear 

His  step,  be  it  dawn  or  midnight  dim, 
Straightway  may  I  rise  without  a  fear, 

And  open  immediately  to  Him. 

MARGARET  J.  PRESTON. 

For  unto  you  is  given 
To  watch  for  the  coming  of  His  feet 
Who  is  the  glory  of  our  blessed  Heaven ; 
The  work  and  watching  will  be  very  sweet, 

Even  in  an  early  home ; 
And  in  such  an  hour  as  you  think  not 
He  will  come. 

BARBARA   MiC  ANDREW. 

And  our  dim  eyes  ask  a  beacon,  and  our  weary  feet  a 

guide, 

And  our  hearts  of  all  life's  mysteries  seek  the  mean- 
ing and  the  key, 
And  a  cross  gleams  o'er  our  pathway,  —  on  it  hangs  the 

Crucified, 

And  He  answers  all  our  yearnings  by  the  whisper, 
"Follow  Me." 

ABRAM   T.   RYAN. 
[9] 


JANUARY   FOURTH. 

BE  strong.  If  you  are  on  the  right  side,  it  is  noble 
to  endure.  Supposing  your  battle-ground  to  be 
full  of  nettles  and  thorns,  the  very  worst  kind  of  nettles 
and  thorns,  —  people  who  never  understand  you!  — 
meet  your  antagonists  with  good  humor ;  turn  aside 
their  unsympathetic  words  with  a  smile,  and  keep  fight- 
ing the  enemy.  We  must  meet  uncongenial  people 
every  day ;  those  who  misjudge  us,  and  misunderstand 
us,  and  to  whom  we  always  show  our  worst  side. 

We  are  at  a  disadvantage  whenever  we  are  with 
them,  for  we  are  conscious  that  they  are  criticising  our 
words  and  actions,  and  we  wish  they  knew  how  amiable 
and  pleasant  we  can  be  under  some  circumstances,  and 
with  those  who  love  and  understand  us.  It  takes  a 
braver  man  to  fight  these  things  than  to  stand  face  to 
face  with  an  enemy  in  the  cause  of  his  country.  It 
takes  a  braver  woman  to  bear  the  stings  of  an  unkind 
tongue  than  to  meet  angry  waters  and  a  tempest,  as  did 
even  the  noble  Grace  Darling.  Heart  and  soul  cour- 
age win  great  victories.  Be  bold  in  doing  your  duty. 
Go  forward;  don't  stop  to  measure  the  distance  you 
must  climb  to  reach  the  heights  of  success.  Sin  and 
temptation  are  everywhere ;  put  on  your  helmet  of  sal- 
vation, and  when  you  die  let  everything  be  said  of  you 
rather  than  that  you  died  defeated. 

Show  me  the  way  that  leads  to  the  true  life, 
I  do  not  care  what  tempests  may  assail  me ; 

I  shall  be  given  courage  for  the  strife ; 

I  know  my  strength  will  not  desert  or  fail  me ; 

I  know  that  I  shall  conquer  in  the  fray,  — 
Show  me  the  way. 

ELLA  WHEELER. 
[10] 


JANUARY   FIFTH. 

T7VERY  blade  of  grass  casts  a  shadow.  No  matter 
•*—•'  how  tiny,  how  slender,  or  how  insignificant,  if  the 
day-god  seeks  out  that  bit  of  green,  somewhere  there 
will  be  a  little  narrow  gray  shaft,  to  denote  its  influence 
and  individuality.  Oh,  it  is  marvellous,  that  our  Father 
can  so  show  forth  Himself  in  His  works!  Is  it  not 
beautiful,  His  careful  thought  for  such  small  things? 
What  then  must  be  our  influence,  if  such  minute  speci- 
mens of  His  handiwork  are  not  beneath  His  notice? 
He  has  told  us  we  are  of  more  value  than  His  most 
beautiful  emblem  of  purity,  the  lily  of  the  field.  This 
He  has  clothed  in  spotless  white,  and  filled  with  a 
perfume  of  rarest  sweetness.  We  are  of  more  value 
than  the  sparrows,  that  build  their  homes  in  high 
places  and  soar  among  the  clouds,  coming  to  us  on 
gladsome  wings  to  proclaim  the  welcome  tidings  of 
Spring's  resurrection.  Yes,  of  far  more  value  are  we, 
than  they.  Made  in  the  image  of  God,  and  sent  into 
the  world  as  His  messengers  of  love  and  mercy,  of 
peace  and  good-will,  what  an  influence  may  be  ours ! 
Our  influence  may  be  a  refuge  for  some  weary  pilgrim, 
or  a  screen  for  some  one's  faults,  or  a  covert  for  a 
wayfarer  blinded  by  sin  and  temptation ;  or  it  may  be 
a  pitfall  of  darkness  to  obscure  the  light  of  Heaven. 
God  grant  we  may  set  a  proper  value  on  our  influence, 
and  use  it  for  His  glory! 


Through  time  and  space  our  influence  runs, 

Though  small  it  seems  to  be, 
And  Time's  strange  waves  shall  roll  at  last 

To  God's  eternity. 

MRS.  J.  C.  FIELD. 


JANUARY   SIXTH. 

T  IFE  is  like  a  candle.  Often  when  it  is  at  its 
-• — '  brightest,  God  sees  fit  to  extinguish  it,  and  some- 
times when  it  seems  most  needed.  Yet  the  light  that 
does  not  shine  for  His  glory  would  better  be  covered 
by  His  shadow  and  set  aside  in  silence  and  darkness. 

No  one,  when  a  light  has  been  lighted, 

Will  hide  it  away  out  of  sight, 
But  place  it  where  all  may  behold  it,  — 

Where  all  may  rejoice  in  its  light. 

So  the  Christian,  illumined  by  God's  Spirit, 
And  placed  in  a  dark  world  of  sin, 

Is  a  lamp  to  enlighten  the  darkness, 
And  trophies  for  Jesus  to  win. 

ACHSA   MILLS   BROWN. 

Children  of  light,  till  the  day-dawn  appeareth, 
God  has  commanded  you  ever  to  shine, 

All  the  long  night  till  the  brightness,  God-given, 
Loseth  its  light  in  the  glory  divine. 

MRS.    R.    M.   WYLIE. 

Let  us  shine  our  very  brightest, 
Be  our  corner  high  or  low. 

MRS.   R.   M.   WYLIE. 

We  look  to  Thee!     Thy  truth  is  still  the  Light 
Which  guides  the  nations  groping  on  their  way, 

Stumbling  and  falling  in  disastrous  night, 
Yet  hoping  ever  for  the  perfect  day. 

THEODORE   PARKER. 
[12] 


JANUARY   SEVENTH. 

THE  world  is  no  place  for  idlers.  God  has  a  mis- 
sion for  everything  He  has  created.  Nature's 
great,  warm  heart  is  full  of  life  and  purpose,  and  her 
highest  aim  is  ever  to  reach  upward  and  outward ;  to 
grow,  to  climb,  to  bud,  to  bloom,  and  to  bear  fruit  for 
the  glory  of  her  all-wise  Maker.  So  must  we  strive, 
body,  soul,  and  mind,  as  we  have  wisdom  and  oppor- 
tunity. If  the  body  is  weak  and  incapable  of  active 
labor,  let  the  soul-garden  have  greater  culture ;  let  its 
leaves  of  thought  spring  into  freshness  and  verdure 
every  day ;  let  its  flowers  of  kindness  and  love  blossom 
into  sweetness  and  beauty  and  make  glad  the  world's 
wayside  ;  let  its  fruits  of  joy  and  faith  and  peace  reach 
ripened  fruition  and  crown  a  life  spent  in  the  Master's 
service.  Oh,  improve  the  time!  Let  every  busy  little 
moment  have  its  weight  with  you.  Be  almost  any- 
thing else,  but  don't  be  an  idler.  How  many,  many 
hours  are  wasted  in  thinking  what  we  might  have  been, 
or  in  planning  what  we  hope  to  be,  instead  of  working 
ourselves  up  to  what  we  ought  to  be.  Opportunity  is 
one  of  God's  most  precious  gifts  ;  take  care  of  it. 

To-day  is  the  day  of  battle, 

The  brunt  is  hard  to  bear ; 
Stand  back  all  ye  who  falter, 

Make  room  for  them  who  dare! 

HELEN   HUNT  JACKSON. 

Awake  to  effort  while  the  day  is  shining, 
The  time  to  labor  will  not  always  last ; 

And  no  regret,  repentance,  nor  repining, 
Can  bring  to  us  again  the  buried  past. 

SARAH   F.    BOLTON. 
t'3] 


JANUARY  EIGHTH. 

IT  is  well  to  have  longings  and  aspirations,  to  have 
ambitions  and  desires,  but  Right  should  inspire 
them,  Truth  govern  them,  and  Self-control  keep  them 
in  check.  Above  all,  let  us  hold  fast  to  the  hand  of 
God,  lest  we  go  beyond  His  guidance,  and  forget  that 
without  Him  no  good  is  worth  striving  for.  He  will 
show  us  the  right  way,  and  help  us  to  walk  in  it,  if  we 
only  trust  His  guidance. 

I  cannot  think  but  God  must  know 
About  the  thing  I  long  for  so ; 
I  know  He  is  so  good,  so  kind, 
I  cannot  think  but  He  will  find 
Some  way  to  help,  some  way  to  show 
Me  to  the  thing  I  long  for  so. 

SAXE  HOLME. 

The  mountain-peaks  that  shine  afar, 
The  silent  star,  the  pathless  sea, 

Are  living  signs  of  all  we  are, 
And  types  of  all  we  hope  to  be. 

WILLIAM   WINTER. 

I'm  strong  as  the  strongest  in  wishing, 

In  work  the  most  remiss  ; 
Oh !  give  me  a  heart  that  its  longing 

Means  something  more  than  this. 

NELLIE  G.   RICE. 

So  patiently  I  strive  to  stand  and  wait 
Thro1  all  the  glories  of  the  changing  years ; 

Wait  till  His  hand  shall  lead  me  thro'  the  gate, 
And  change  my  sighs  to  songs,  to  smiles  my  tears. 

REBECCA   RUTER   SPRINGER. 
[14] 


JANUARY   NINTH. 

"HpHE   race  is   not  always   to   the   swift,  nor  the 

J-    battle  to  the  strong." 

Don't  be  impatient.  Often  the  best  things  come  to 
us  after  the  longest  waiting.  Our  soul's  sweetest  fruits 
are  always  watered  with  our  tears;  the  discipline  is 
severe,  but  in  the  time  of  ripened  fruition,  lo !  what  a 
harvest  is  ours !  It  is  worth  waiting  for,  worth  striving 
for,  worth  hoping  for,  and  at  the  end  of  it  all  there  is  a 
palm  of  victory,  a  robe  of  rejoicing,  and  a  crown  of 
glory.  What  a  recompense  for  a  few  brief  years  of 
patient  toil  and  endurance  !  What  a  reward  for  the 
paltry  tears  we  shed,  and  the  little  crosses  we  bore! 
At  the  first  touch  of  our  golden  harps,  we  shall  forget 
we  ever  carried  a  cross,  heaved  a  sigh,  or  shed  a  tear. 
When  the  melody  of  the  Glad  New  Song  goes  ringing 
through  the  courts  of  Heaven,  we  shall  remember  our 
complaints  and  sorrows  no  more,  and  join  our  voices 
with  the  white-robed  throng  of  redeemed  ones,  who, 
through  patience,  have  run  the  race  and  obtained  the 
crown.  "  So  run,  that  ye  may  obtain." 

Trusting  in  the  love  that  can  never,  never  fail, 
Trusting  in  the  name  that  forever  must  prevail, 

Patiently  enduring, 

Till  the  day  of  rest, 

Sure  that  He  who  loves  me 

Doeth  what  is  best. 

M.  E.  SERVOSS. 

Peace,  lonely  heart!   Be  patient.     Thou'lt  see,  waiting, 
How  perfect  sympathy  and  love  may  meet ; 

Be  patient,  praying :  all  earth's  discord  grating, 
Will  melt  at  last  to  love  divine,  complete. 

MARY   CLEMMER   AMES. 
[IS] 


JANUARY  TENTH. 

"II  WHATEVER  it  is,  make  the  best  of  it.  If  your 
*  *  surroundings  are  not  pleasant  or  congenial,  just 
remember  that  there  must  be  a  change  after  a  while. 
Nothing  lasts  long  in  this  world.  The  cloud  that 
hangs  so  low  and  looks  so  dark  to-day  will  pass  away 
in  the  morning.  Perhaps  it  may  obscure  all  the  bright- 
ness for  a  while,  but  the  sun  is  still  shining  somewhere. 
If  the  cares  and  burdens  seem  too  heavy  to  bear,  just 
give  them  into  God's  keeping ;  He  is  willing  and  able 
to  relieve  you  of  them  all,  and  all  He  requires  of  you 
is  to  be  content  and  wait.  Somewhere  there  is  a  sweet 
surprise  in  store  for  you,  if  you  will  daily  do  your  best. 
God  does  not  forget  to  reward  the  faithful.  Smile 
away  your  cares,  take  things  as  they  come,  and  if  cir- 
cumstances are  all  against  you,  don't  be  discouraged. 
The  only  happy  people  in  the  world  are  those  who,  by 
the  grace  of  God,  can  rise  above  vexations  and  worries, 
and  mounting  to  the  heights  of  His  love  learn  the 
sweet  lesson  of  being  truly  content. 

A  dear  old  lady  once  said,  "  I  have  nothing  to  wish 
for,  and  everything  to  be  thankful  for,  and  can  say  I 
am  perfectly  content."  And  yet  she  was  old,  deaf,  and 
a  paralytic!  What  was  the  secret  of  it?  She  was  get- 
ting the  best  out  of  life,  trusting  in  God,  and  leaving 
the  future  in  God's  hands.  Now,  she  has  "entered 
into  rest,"  and  has  received  her  reward.  Let  us,  like 
her,  have  a  contented  mind,  which  is,  we  are  told,  ';  a 
continual  feast." 

What  though  no  grants  of  royal  donors 
With  pompous  titles  grace  our  blood, 

We'll  shine  in  more  substantial  honors, 
And,  to  be  noble,  we'll  be  good. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[16] 


JANUARY  ELEVENTH. 

SWEET  reflection!  how  welcome,  how  restful  it  is 
to  body,  mind,  and  soul.  We  look  forward  and 
backward,  outward  and  inward,  and  alone  with  silent 
Thought  meditate  on  what  we  have  been,  what  we 
are,  and  what  we  hope  to  be.  How  sweet  thus  to  hold 
communion  with  the  past ;  to  walk  in  meadows  where 
once  our  young  feet  strayed,  and  feel  again  the  buoy- 
ancy and  carelessness  of  youth ;  to  look  into  dear 
familiar  faces  separated  from  us  by  Time  and  Change, 
and  to  stand  once  more  on  the  threshold  of  that  old 
life,  looking  forward  with  eager  eyes  towards  the  mys- 
teries of  the  life  we  call  the  Present.  Oh,  it  does  us 
good  to  turn  backward  sometimes  in  our  pilgrimage,  to 
dream  the  old  dreams  over,  and  revisit  the  old  places, 
and  to  call  up  loved  forms,  and  listen  again  to  the  ring 
of  the  old  laughter  that  has  been  like  a  silver  chime 
in  our  hearts  through  all  these  changing  years!  Ah, 
Memory  is  like  an  oasis  in  the  desert  of  our  lives ;  she 
soothes  us  with  her  soft  voice,  woos  us  with  her  sweet 
smile  and  rests  us  with  the  bright  pictures  of  our  by- 
gone days. 


Oh,  the  voices  of  the  Yesterdays !    Time's  melancholy 

choir, 

With  the  twilight  singing  minor  and  the  dawning  sing- 
ing air, 

With  the  clouds  of  glory  round 
And  their  brows  with  garlands  bound, 
And  a  million  golden  minutes  strewn  like  grain  upon 
the  ground. 

BENJAMIN   F.  TAYLOR. 
A  2  [I7] 


H 


JANUARY   TWELFTH. 
E  hath  made  everything  beautiful   in  his  time. 

—  ECCLESIASTES  3  :  1 1 . 

To  him,  who  in  the  love  of  Nature  holds 
Communion  with  her  visible  forms,  she  speaks 
A  various  language ;  for  his  gayer  hours 
She  has  a  voice  of  gladness,  and  a  smile 
And  eloquence  of  beauty,  and  she  glides 
Into  his  darker  musings,  with  a  mild 
And  healing  sympathy,  that  steals  away 
Their  sharpness,  ere  he  is  aware. 

WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

The  universe,  O  God,  is  home, 

In  height  or  depth  to  me  ; 
Yet  here  upon  Thy  footstool  green 

Content  am  I  to  be  ; 
Glad,  when  is  open  to  my  need 

Some  sea-like  glimpse  of  Thee. 

LUCY  LARCOM. 

Though  all  the  bards  of  earth  were  dead, 

And  all  their  music  passed  away, 
What  Nature  wishes  should  be  said 

She'll  find  a  rightful  voice  to  say ! 

WILLIAM   WINTER. 


Wise  is  Nature's  plan, 
Who,  in  her  realm  as  in  the  soul  of  man, 
Alternates  storm  with  calm,  and  the  loud  noon 
With  dewy  evening's  soft  and  sacred  lull. 

PAUL   H.  HAYNE. 
[18] 


JANUARY   THIRTEENTH. 

TNCLINATION  or  Duty!  Why  should  we  have  to 
•*•  choose  between  them?  How  easy  to  follow  the  one, 
how  hard  to  obey  the  other!  Must  we  take  the  respon- 
sibility of  a  decision  in  our  hands  ?  Must  we  ?  What 
are  our  minds  for  but  to  reason  out  these  things? 
What  are  our  souls  for  but  to  follow  God's  commands  ? 
What  are  our  bodies  for  but  to  be  under  subjection 
to  our  wills  ?  Oh,  Duty  may  be  a  hard  task-master!  but 
there  is  a  peace  that  follows  true  obedience  of  His  laws 
which  Inclination  cannot  bestow.  Pleasure  to  sway  us, 
or  Duty  to  weigh  us  —  which  ?  Pleasure  is  unsatisfying 
and  disappointing ;  but  Duty  brings  a  calm  assurance 
of  well-doing,  and  a  happiness  that  will  not  wear  off 
with  the  glare  of  to-morrow's  sun.  "Colors  seen  by 
candle-light  are  not  the  same  by  day."  The  beautiful 
colors  woven  by  Duty's  children  bear  close  inspection. 

For  Duty  is  a  bright  and  glorious  sunbeam, 
That  gilds  the  humblest  lot  with  light  divine, 

For  Jesus  walked  amid  its  narrow  windings, 
And  made  the  lowliest  aspects  most  sublime. 

MRS.  S.  C.  CLARK. 

Not  Duty's  measured  tithes  alone 
Love  lays  upon  her  Master's  shrine ; 

Lord,  grant  this  gift,  that  all  we  own, 
And  all  we  are,  be  marked  as  Thine. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Shall  life  be  spent  in  trifles, 

While  He  waits  the  daylight  through  — 
Waits  for  our  hands  to  bring  Him 

The  sheaves  that  are  His  due  ? 

MARY   A.  LEAVITT. 
[19] 


JANUARY  FOURTEENTH. 

WE  are  like  a  harp.     One  broken  string  spoils  the 
harmony  of  the  whole.     A  soul  out  of  repair 
can  only  be  tuned  again  by  God,  the  Great  Musician, 
whose  love  is  the  key-note  without  which  no  music  can 
be  complete. 

These  lives  of  ours  have  rhythm :  every  one 
A  little  note  of  that  great  Anthem,  Time, 
Forever  sounding  down  the  world  amain 
Since  fell  the  hammers  swung  by  Tubal  Cain. 
How  grand  the  footfall  ringing  out  sublime! 
How  grand  to  think  that  Anthem  long  begun, 
Without  our  music  never  can  be  done  ! 

Though  David's  crown  was  only  rust, 
Yet  the  stately  step  of  his  royal  Psalms 

Is  as  fresh  as  May  in  the  fragrant  dust, 
And  as  grand  as  the  winds  in  the  palms. 

'Tis  a  bird  in  the  sky  ! 

'Tis  an  archangel  nigh  ! 
The  whisper  of  God  in  the  calms  ! 

BENJAMIN  F.  TAYLOR. 

The  soul  alone,  like  a  neglected  harp, 
Grows  out  of  tune,  and  needs  that  Hand  divine ; 

Dwell  Thou  within  it,  tune  and  touch  the  chords, 
Till  every  note  and  string  shall  answer  Thine. 

HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE. 

God  sent  His  singers  upon  earth 
With  songs  of  gladness  and  of  mirth, 
That  they  might  touch  the  hearts  of  men, 
And  bring  them  back  to  Heaven  again. 

HENRY  W.    LONGFELLOW. 

[20] 


JANUARY   FIFTEENTH. 

WHAT  would  this  world  be  without  Hope  ?  It  is 
the  light  in  the  darkness,  joy  in  sorrow,  and 
strength  in  weakness ;  without  it,  the  world  would  be 
desolate  indeed.  Its  beams  are  like  a  great  search- 
light shining  in  our  hearts,  and  brightening  up  every 
corner,  until  we  mount,  as  with  wings,  over  difficulties 
and  circumstances,  and  triumph  glorious  over  the 
enemy,  Despair. 

How  about  business  in  town  ?  Do  the  times  look  a 
little  blue,  and  is  there  a  greater  depression  in  every- 
thing than  our  country  has  felt  for  years  ?  Well,  don't 
croak  about  it  continually ;  it  won't  last  forever,  and 
you  are  only  worrying  and  fretting  over  something 
you  can't  help.  Look  on  ahead.  If  it  is  night  now, 
there  is  going  to  be  a  glorious  sunrise  by  and  by. 
The  whole  world  is  getting  ready  for  it.  "The  darkest 
hour  is  just  before  the  day,"  and  the  day  that  is  com- 
ing for  us  may  be  full  of  more  gladness  and  joy  for 
you  and  me  than  any  we  have  ever  known  before. 
Hold  on  to  the  hand  of  Hope ;  look  into  her  happy 
face ;  catch  the  inspiration  of  her  smile  and  the  sweet- 
ness of  her  song.  Keep  trusting  and  praying,  and 
looking  on  and  up !  The  bow  of  promise  in  God's  sky 
has  never  failed  yet. 


O  thou,  by  winds  of  grief  o'erblown 

Beside  some  golden  summer's  bier,  — 
Take  heart !    Thy  birds  are  only  flown, 
Thy  blossoms  sleeping,  tearful  sown, 
To  greet  thee  in  the  immortal  year. 

EDNA  DEAN  PROCTOR. 
[31] 


JANUARY   SIXTEENTH. 

IF  you  have  never  learned  the  lesson  of  thankfulness, 
begin  now.  Sum  up  your  mercies ;  see  what  pro- 
vision God  has  made  for  your  happiness,  what  oppor- 
tunities for  your  usefulness,  and  what  advantages  for 
your  success.  If  you  haven't  done  your  best,  it  is  your 
own  fault.  If  you  have  done  your  best,  under  all  cir- 
cumstances, then  you  are  not  responsible  for  your  fail- 
ures. God  does  not  require  more  of  us  than  we  can 
give.  He  measures  us  by  our  strength  —  physical,  men- 
tal, and  spiritual.  He  has  said,  "As  thy  day,  thy 
strength  shall  be."  If  you  are  too  ambitious  and  go 
beyond  your  powers  of  endurance,  you  are  liable  to  be 
ill  and  suffer ;  but  don't  blame  God  for  your  illness. 
Be  thankful  there  is  a  limit  to  your  strength.  Be  thank- 
ful that  God  looks  after  you,  and  that  His  love  has  a 
restraining  influence  over  you  at  all  times.  Let  no 
morning  dawn  without  thanking  Him  for  His  night- 
watch  over  you,  and  let  no  evening  fade  away  without 
some  grateful  acknowledgment  of  His  tender  mercies  to 
you  individually. 


Thank  God  for  life!     Life  is  not  sweet  always, 

Hands  may  be  heavy-laden,  hearts  care-full. 
Unwelcome  nights  follow  unwelcome  days! 

And  dreams  divine  end  in  awakening  dull. 
Still  it  is  life,  and  life  is  cause  of  praise  ; 

This  ache,  this  restlessness,  this  quickening  sting, 
Prove  me  no  torpid  and  inanimate  thing, 
Prove  me  of  Him  who  is  of  life  the  spring, 
I  am  alive,  and  that  is  beautiful. 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

[22] 


JANUARY   SEVENTEENTH. 

HOW  restful  is  sleep!  In  the  calm  of  silence  and 
forgetfulness  how  sweet  it  is  to  drift  away  from 
all  our  cares  and  worries,  far  off  into  the  land  of 
dreams!  Of  all  the  thoughts  of  God  for  us,  none  is 
more  tender  than  this.  Like  a  tired  child  we  may  lay 
aside  the  world,  its  hopes  and  its  fears,  its  perplexities 
and  anxieties,  its  pleasures  and  its  joys,  and  body  and 
brain  weary  may  sail  in  the  boat  of  Peace,  on  the 
ocean  of  Sleep,  and  find  there  repose.  Thank  God  for 
sleep,  after  the  day's  turmoil,  how  tranquil  and  how 
welcome  it  is!  Night  cradles  the  stars  in  her  bosom, 
and  gathers  her  cloudy  drapery  around  her.  She  is 
crowned  with  a  silver  crescent,  and  "sits  her  blue 
throne  with  the  pride  of  a  queen."  At  her  coming, 
earth  is  lulled  to  rest,  and  all  humanity  sinks  into  sweet 
repose.  Silence  and  Sleep  walk  hand  in  hand,  and 
Heaven  watches  over  all. 

And  through  the  warm  deeps  of  the  sky 
Steal  faint  star-clusters,  while  we  rest 

In  deep  refreshment,  thou  and  I, 
Wave-cradled  thus,  and  wind-caressed. 

CELIA  THAXTER. 

All  sense  of  hearing  and  of  sight 
Enfold  in  the  serene  delight 
And  quietude  of  sleep! 

HENRY    W.    LONGFELLOW. 

My  God!  I  thank  Thee  for  the  bath  of  sleep, 
That  wraps  in  balm  my  weary  heart  and  brain, 

And  drowns  within  its  waters  still  and  deep 
My  sorrow  and  my  pain. 

J.  G.  HOLLAND. 

[23] 


JANUARY   EIGHTEENTH. 

T)  EWARE  of  the  little  foxes !  They  creep  in  among 
-D  the  tender  leaves  of  our  best  natures,  and  destroy 
the  sweetness  of  our  temper,  and  turn  aside  our  good 
intentions,  until  heart-sick  and  discouraged  we  are 
powerless  to  drive  them  out.  See  that  there  are  no 
loopholes  for  them  to  break  through,  and  no  leaves 
and  fruit  within  their  reach.  Prayer  is  a  defence 
against  the  foxes  of  sin  and  temptation ;  of  malice, 
and  envy,  and  prejudice.  Don't  forget  the  little  prayers ! 
They  are  mighty  fortifications  against  little  sins.  After 
all,  it  is  the  little  things  that  make  up  our  lives,  and 
often  small  beginnings  lead  to  great  results. 

One  stitch  dropped  as  the  weaver  drove 

His  nimble  shuttle  to  and  fro, 
In  and  out,  beneath,  above, 

Till  the  pattern  seems  to  bud  and  grow 
As  if  the  fairies  had  helping  been, 
And  the  little  stitch  dropped  pulled  the  next  stitch  out, 
And  a  weak  place  in  the  fabric  stout, 
And  the  perfect  pattern  was  marred  for  aye, 
By  one  small  stitch  that  was  dropped  that  day. 

One  small  life  in  God's  great  plan. 

How  futile  it  seems  as  the  ages  roll, 
Do  what  it  may,  or  strive  how  it  can, 

To  alter  the  sweep  of  the  infinite  whole! 
A  single  stitch  in  an  endless  web ; 
A  drop  in  the  ocean's  flow  and  ebb ; 
But  the  pattern  is  rent  where  the  stitch  is  lost, 
Or  marred  where  the  tangled  threads  have  crossed  ; 
And  each  life  that  fails  of  the  true  intent 
Mars  the  perfect  plan  that  its  Master  meant. 

SUSAN   COOLIDGE. 

[24] 


JANUARY   NINETEENTH. 

AD  AY  of  memories !  Take  out  the  old  musty  life- 
book,  con  it  over  and  over  again.  Never  mind 
the  interlineations ;  they  are  often  the  most  precious 
part.  Never  mind  the  erasures  ;  don't  seek  to  decipher 
them ;  you  would  better  not  try  to  recall  them ;  make 
the  line  over  them  a  little  heavier,  blot  them  out,  pass 
them  over.  Doubtless  they  are  things  you  ought 
to  forget,  and  if  there  is  anything  unpleasant  sug- 
gested by  that  old  book  pass  that  over  too.  Happy 
memories  elevate  and  gladden,  unhappy  memories 
depress  and  sadden  us.  We  have  no  use  for  anything 
that  hurts  our  influence  in  this  world,  or  makes  us  a 
stumbling-block  to  our  neighbor.  Therefore,  cling  to 
all  the  sweetness  and  beauty,  the  brightness  and  good- 
ness of  the  past,  but  turn  down,  cross  out,  and  tear 
away  the  leaves  that  carry  messages  of  gloom  into 
your  life.  Remember  that  "  a  merry  heart  doeth  good 
like  a  medicine." 

Mighty  in  faith  and  hope,  why  art  thou  sad  ? 
Sever  the  green  withes,  look  up  and  be  glad ; 
See  all  around  thee,  below,  and  above, 
The  beautiful,  beautiful  gifts  of  God's  love. 

Mine  be  the  lip  ever  truthful  and  bold  ; 
Mine  be  the  heart  never  careless  nor  cold ; 
A  faith  humbly  trustful,  a  life  free  from  blame, 
All  else  is  unstable  as  flax  in  the  flame. 

And  while  the  soft  skies  are  so  starry  and  blue  ; 
And  while  the  wide  earth  is  so  fresh  with  God's  dew, 
Though  all  around  me  the  sad  sit  and  sigh, 
I  will  be  glad  that  I  live  and  must  die. 

ALICE  GARY. 

[25] 


JANUARY   TWENTIETH. 

WAIT  on  the  Lord :  be  of  good  courage,  and  he 
shall  strengthen  thine  heart :  wait,  I  say,  on  the 
Lord.  — PSALM  27  :  14. 

He  giveth  power  to  the  faint ;  and  to  them  that  have 
no  might  he  increaseth  strength.  — ISAIAH  40:29. 

Let  me  keep  on,  abiding  and  unfearing 

Thy  will  always, 
Through  a  long  century's  ripening  fruition 

Or  a  short  day's  ; 
Thou  canst  not  come  too  soon ;  and  I  can  wait 

If  Thou  come  late. 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

Leaning  on  Him,  make  with  reverent  meekness 

His  own  thy  will, 
And  with  strength  from  Him  shall  thy  utter  weakness 

Life's  task  fulfil. 

JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 

Weak  are  our  hands,  but  striving  still 
To  bring  Thy  glorious  kingdom  near, 

We  work  obedient  to  Thy  will, 

And  claim  Thy  strength  and  feel  no  fear. 

EMILY   HUNTINGTON   MILLER. 

Write  on  your  doors  the  saying  wise  and  old, 
"  Be  bold !  be  bold !  and  everywhere  —  Be  bold  ; 

Be  not  too  bold! "     Yet  better  the  excess 
Than  the  defect ;  better  the  more  than  less. 

TR.  BY   HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW. 

The  faith  that  lifts,  the  courage  that  sustains, 
These  thou  wert  sent  to  teach. 

BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

[26] 


JANUARY   TWENTY-FIRST. 

AND  the  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understand- 
ing, shall  keep  your  hearts  and  minds  through 
Christ  Jesus.  —  PHILIPPIANS  4 :  7. 

And  the  fruit  of  righteousness  is  sown  in  peace  of 
them  that  make  peace.  —  JAMES  3:18. 

Peace  I  leave  with  you,  my  peace  I  give  unto  you ; 
not  as  the  world  giveth,  give  I  unto  you.  —  JOHN  14 :  27. 

God's  angels  have  not  such  a  boon  possessed 
As  He  hath  granted  to  the  human  breast : 
"  My  peace  I  give,"  O  heritage  most  rare !  — 
The  deep  repose  of  Christ  Himself  to  share. 
All  hail!     Thou  morning-star  of  day  most  blest, 
O  wondrous  Peace! 

JULIA   H.  THAYER. 

As  silently,  as  tenderly, 

The  dawn  of  Peace  descends  on  me. 

Oh,  this  is  Peace!  I  have  no  need 

Of  friend  to  talk,  or  book  to  read  ; 
A  dear  Companion  here  abides, 
Close  to  my  thrilling  heart  He  hides  ; 

The  holy  silence  is  His  voice : 

I  lie,  and  listen,  and  rejoice. 

JOHN   TOWNSEND   TROWBRIDGE. 

O  Christ !  whose  human  heart  remembers  still 
The  pangs  from  which  death  only  gave  release, 

Strange  griefs,  strange  fears,  our  yearning  souls  must 

fill. 
Withhold  what  else  Thou  wilt  —  but  give  us  Peace ! 

JULIA   C.  R.  DORR. 

[27] 


JANUARY   TWENTY-SECOND. 

/CHARITY  should  be  the  key-note  to  all  our  actions. 
V^  We  cannot  expect  to  accomplish  anything  in  this 
world  without  it ;  it  is  needful  in  every  vocation  of  life, 
and  yet  many  of  us  try  to  live  without  it  altogether. 
Envy  creeps  into  our  lives,  and  eats  at  our  hearts,  be- 
cause we  lack  charity.  "  Charity  envieth  not."  Self- 
conceit  makes  us  so  great  in  our  own  eyes  that  we  lose 
sight  of  the  merits  of  others.  "  Charity  vaunteth  not 
itself,  is  not  puffed  up."  We  misjudge  and  blame  our 
neighbor  or  friend,  because  we  do  not  cultivate  sweet 
charity.  "  Charity  suffereth  long,  and  is  kind."  It 
bridges  over  many  difficulties  ;  it  will  bind  up  a  broken 
heart,  and  brighten  a  sorrowful  life  as  nothing  else  can. 
This  is  what  it  means,  I  think,  when  we  read,  "  Charity 
never  faileth."  And  more  yet ;  listen  to  this,  "  Doth 
not  behave  itself  unseemly,  seeketh  not  her  own,  is 
not  easily  provoked,  thinketh  no  evil."  Let  us  not 
keep  it  shut  up  between  the  leaves  of  the  Bible ;  the 
pages  of  our  heart-book  will  be  brighter  and  better 
with  Charity  written  between  the  lines.  Besides,  it  is 
a  stepping-stone  to  Heaven. 

Prophecies  shall  fail  or  falter, 

Earthly  knowledge  fade  away ; 
Tongues  shall  cease,  and  all  things  alter, 

Charity  shall  ne'er  decay! 

MARY   C.   WEBSTER. 

Among  the  pitfalls  in  our  way, 
The  best  of  us  walk  blindly ; 

So,  man,  be  wary,  watch  and  pray, 
And  judge  your  brother  kindly. 

ALICE   GARY. 
[28] 


JANUARY   TWENTY-THIRD. 

TRUE  nobility  does  not  always  exist  among  the 
rich  and  great. 

God's  noblemen  are  often  found  in  dens  of  poverty, 
where,  like  jewels  in  the  mire,  the  lustre  of  their  kingly 
kindness,  self-sacrifice,  and  gentle  patience  shines  in 
royal  splendor.  There  is  no  earthly  crown  or  throne 
for  such  a  king  as  this.  Daily  striving  is  his  meed,  but 
with  sweet  content  that  sings  in  his  heart,  and  an  iron 
will  that  bears  and  endures,  God's  true  nobleman  is 
carving  for  himself  an  immortal  name  which  shall  be 
wreathed  in  the  laurels  of  Heaven. 

These  are  the  great  of  earth  — 
Great,  not  by  kingly  birth, 
Great  in  their  well-proved  worth  — 
Firm  hearts  and  true. 

JOHN   PIERPONT. 

Rugged  strength  and  radiant  beauty  — 
These  were  one  in  Heaven's  plan ; 

Humble  toil  and  heavenward  duty  — 
These  will  form  the  perfect  man ! 

SARAH   JOSEPH  A   HALE. 

Be  noble ;  and  the  nobleness  that  lies 
In  other  men  sleeping,  but  never  dead, 
Will  rise  in  majesty  to  meet  thine  own. 

JAMES   RUSSELL   LOWELL. 

We  rise  by  things  that  are  beneath  our  feet, 
By  what  we  have  mastered  by  good  and  gain, 
By  the  pride  deposed  and  passion  slain, 

And  the  vanquished  ills  that  we  hourly  meet. 

J.    G.    HOLLAND. 

[39] 


JANUARY   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

A  FEW  good  books  carefully  read  are  better  than 
many  lightly  scanned.  A  thoughtful  perusal  of 
a  little  choice  literature  will  give  food  for  much  solid 
thought.  But  the  growing  tendency  of  all  countries  is 
to  crowd  the  mind  with  every  surface-book  that  strikes 
the  fancy.  Such  literature  cheapens  the  taste  for  better 
things. 

As  we  make  a  calm  inspection 

Of  our  library's  collection, 

What  a  host  of  printed  pages 

Represents  the  thoughts  of  ages  ; 

What  a  world  of  wisdom  rages 

Through  the  jottings  of  the  sages  ; 

What  a  mighty  tide  of  feeling 

Surges  through,  their  strength  revealing! 

Household  friends  in  loving  recesses, 

Clustered  shelves,  and  cedar  presses, 

How  we  cherish  them  and  read  them, 

How  we  search  them,  how  we  bleed  them,  — 

'Tis  for  mind  and  soul  we  need  them, 

Let  us  therefore  wisely  heed  them. 

IDA   SCOTT   TAYLOR. 

Books  are  the  best  things,  well  used  ;  abused,  among 
the  worst.  —  EMERSON. 

Of  gifts,  there  seems  none  more  becoming  to  offer  a 
friend  than  a  beautiful  book. — A.  BRONSON  ALCOTT. 

The  world's  history  is  a  divine  poem,  of  which  the 
history  of  every  nation  is  a  canto,  and  every  man  a 

Word.  —  JAMES   A.    GARFIELD. 

[30] 


JANUARY   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

HAS  it  been  a  day  of  perplexities,  anxieties,  and 
difficulties?  Have  the  little  annoyances  left  a 
seam  in  your  forehead,  a  thread  of  silver  in  your  hair, 
and  a  scar  in  your  heart  ?  Never  mind ;  this  belongs 
to  your  earth-life.  Begin  afresh  in  the  morning.  Look 
up,  get  a  good  start,  take  courage  and  press  on.  The 
time  will  come  when  these  things  will  melt  into  insig- 
nificance among  the  more  important  events  in  your 
lives. 

Yes,  but  you  will  say,  they  are  mighty  when  they 
gather  all  their  forces  and  weigh  us  down.  True ; 
millions  of  tiny  snowflakes  with  their  zephyr-weight 
and  diminutive  proportions  can  collect  in  one  mighty 
whole,  deep  enough  and  heavy  enough  to  bury  a  whole 
town.  Ah,  yes  ;  but  they  are  as  nothing  when  the  sun 
shines!  Let  the  brightness  into  your  hearts,  and  it 
will  thaw  these  frozen  walls  of  perplexities  and  cares, 
until  they  shall  run  away  from  your  spirits  in  sing- 
ing streams  of  joy.  God's  love  is  the  best  sunshine ; 
open  the  gates  wide,  He  has  plenty  to  spare  and  enough 
for  the  whole  world  besides.  Take  some  to  give  away ; 
your  neighbors  want  it,  the  poor  need  it,  —  yes,  and 
plenty  of  the  rich,  too,  —  get  a  "  good  measure,  pressed 
down  and  running  over."  No  one  was  ever  known  to 
gather  too  much  sunshine.  As  the  Israelites  gathered 
manna  in  the  wilderness,  gather  enough  in  the  morn- 
ing to  last  all  day. 

The  light  of  smiles  shall  fill  again 
The  lids  that  overflow  with  tears ; 

And  weary  hours  of  woe  and  pain 
Are  promises  of  happier  years. 

WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 
[31] 


JANUARY  TWENTY-SIXTH. 

HE  that  abideth  in  me,  and  I  in  him,  bringeth 
forth  much  fruit.  —  JOHN  15:5. 


As  some  rare  perfume  in  a  vase  of  clay 
Pervades  it  with  a  fragrance  not  its  own, 

So,  when  Thou  dwellest  in  a  mortal  soul, 
All  Heaven's  own  sweetness  seems  around  it  thrown. 

HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE. 

Trust  in  the  Lord,  and  do  good ;  so  shalt  thou  dwell 
in  the  land,  and  verily  thou  shalt  be  fed. — PSALM  37  : 3. 

What  could  I  do,  O  blessed  Guide  and  Master, 

Other  than  this : 
Still  go  on  as  now,  not  slower,  faster, 

Nor  fear  to  miss 
The  road,  although  so  very  long  it  be, 

While  led  by  Thee? 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

If  I  trust  Him  once  I  must  trust  Him  ever, 

And  His  way  is  best,  though  I  stand  or  fall ; 
Through  wind  and  storm  He  will  leave  me  never, 
He  sends  it  all. 

MRS.    FRANK  TAYLOR. 

A  heavenly  trust  my  spirit  calms, 

My  soul  is  filled  with  light ; 
The  Ocean  sings  his  solemn  psalms, 

The  wild  winds  chant. 

JOHN  TOWNSEND   TROWBRIDGE. 

[3»J 


JANUARY  TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

SOME  one  has  said,  "  Don't  live  your  life  alone  with- 
out forming  friendships  and  love ;  your  nature 
needs  love,  you  were  made  for  it,  and  other  natures 
need  you.  You  are  robbing  yourself,  you  are  robbing 
others,  if  you  live  like  a  hermit.  Therefore,  go  out 
into  God's  world,  and  live  your  life  for  others."  "No 
man  liveth  unto  himself."  He  who  says  he  can  do 
without  friends  makes  a  great  mistake.  His  life  is  a 
miserable  failure.  He  misses  the  sweetest  and  best 
part  of  living  —  friendship. 

But  we've  a  page,  more  glowing  and  more  bright, 
On  which  our  friendship  and  our  love  to  write ; 
That  these  may  never  from  the  soul  depart, 
We  trust  them  to  the  memory  of  the  heart. 
There  is  no  dimming,  no  effacement  there ; 
Each  new  pulsation  keeps  the  records  clear ; 
Warm,  golden  letters  all  the  tablet  fill, 
Nor  lose  their  lustre  till  the  heart  stands  still. 

WEBSTER. 

Thank  God  for  one  dear  friend, 

With  face  still  radiant  with  the  light  of  truth, 

Whose  love  comes  laden  with  the  scent  of  youth. 

JOHN   BOYLE   O'REILLY. 

Fast  as  the  rolling  seasons  bring 
The  hour  of  fate  to  those  we  love, 

Each  pearl  that  leaves  the  broken  string 
Is  set  in  Friendship's  crown  above. 

OLIVER   WENDELL   HOLMES. 

A  slender  acquaintance  with  the  world  must  con- 
vince every  man,  that  actions,  not  words,  are  the  true 
criterion  of  the  attachment  of  friends.  —  WASHINGTON. 
AS  [33] 


JANUARY    TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

WHAT  kind  of  a  flag  are  you  marching  under? 
There  is  the  blue  flag  of  Truth ;  its  colors  are 
loyal,  and  its  principles  are  good ;  why  not  join  its 
ranks  ?  There  is  the  green  flag  of  Hope ;  that  is  a 
grand  old  flag!  Its  defenders  are  ever  looking  fonvard 
to  a  good  time  coming ;  their  hearts  are  loyal  and  their 
strength  of  purpose  never  falters.  There  is  the  red 
flag  of  Love ;  it  leads  to  victory,  and  its  followers  have 
the  charity  that  "  covereth  a  multitude  of  sins."  There 
is  the  yellow  flag  of  Courage  ;  they  who  carry  this  golden 
banner  are  firm,  resolute,  and  dauntless.  There  is  the 
black  flag  of  Despair ;  the  mud-brown  flag  of  Malice ; 
the  gray  flag  of  Discontent ;  the  rosy  flag  of  Happi- 
ness ;  and  the  royal  purple  flag  of  Kingly  Kindness ; 
while  a  little  higher  than  them  all  floats  the  pure  white 
folds  of  the  flag  whereon  is  inscribed  Faith,  Purity,  and 
Peace. 

Choose  your  flag ;  one,  or  more,  belongs  to  you ; 
your  life-march  is  going  on  underneath  it,  and  you  are 
under  orders,  and  keeping  time  to  the  music  of  its 
band.  See  to  it  that  you  have  chosen  the  right  color, 
and  that  your  commander  belongs  to  the  King's  great 
Army. 

My  half-day's  work  is  done, 

And  this  is  all  my  part,  — 
I  give  a  patient  God 

My  patient  heart ; 
And  grasp  His  banner  still, 

Though  all  the  blue  be  dim ; 
These  stripes  as  well  as  stars 

Lead  after  Him. 

MARY  WOOLSEY    ROWLAND. 
[34] 


JANUARY   TWENTY-NINTH. 

AND  that  which  fell  among  thorns  are  they,  which, 
when  they  have  heard,  go  forth,  and  are  choked 
with  cares  and  riches  and  pleasures  of  this  life,  and 
bring  no  fruit  to  perfection.  —  LUKE  8:14. 

Cares,  riches,  and  pleasures!  how  they  absorb  us. 
Think  of  actually  being  choked  by  them.  The  good 
word  we  might  speak,  the  kind  smile  we  might  bestow, 
the  benevolent  deed  we  might  do,  —  all  choked  by 
cares,  riches,  and  pleasures.  No  one  ever  intends 
being  intemperate  in  these  things  ;  it  is  like  the  moder- 
ate drinker,  who  indulges  merely  to  be  social,  and  thinks 
there  is  not  the  slightest  danger  of  his  ever  becoming 
a  drunkard.  The  things  of  this  world  often  engross  us 
to  the  peril  of  our  souls.  They  are  like  a  whirling 
maelstrom,  and  when  once  encircled  in  their  embrace 
there  seems  no  way  of  escape.  Cares  may  become 
lighter,  if  we  meet  them  with  a  brave  heart  and  sweet 
submission.  Riches  may  make  for  us  a  crown  of  glory, 
if  used  aright.  Pleasures  may  become  blessings  if  we 
give  them  to  others,  and  lay  aside  the  gratification  ol 
Self.  Then  shall  we  indeed  bring  the  fruit  of  our  good 
deeds  "  to  perfection." 

I  do  not  ask  for  any  crown 

But  that  which  all  may  win ; 
Nor  try  to  conquer  any  world 

Except  the  one  within. 
Be  Thou  my  guide  until  I  find, 

Led  by  a  tender  hand, 
The  happy  kingdom  in  myself, 

And  dare  to  take  command. 

LOUISA   M.    ALCOTT. 
[35] 


JANUARY   THIRTIETH. 

WATCH  ye,  stand  fast  in  the  faith,  quit  you  like 
men,  be  strong.  —  i  CORINTHIANS  16:13. 

Ye  have  need  of  patience,  that,  after  ye  have  done 
the  will  of  God,  ye  might  receive  the  promise.  — 
HEBREWS  10:36. 

'Tis  bitter  to  endure  the  wrong 
Which  evil  hands  and  tongues  commit  ; 

The  bold  encroachments  of  the  strong, 
The  shafts  of  calumny  and  wit, 

The  scornful  bearing  of  the  proud, 

The  sneers  and  laughter  of  the  crowd. 

And  harder  still  is  it  to  bear 
The  censure  of  the  good  and  wise, 

Who,  ignorant  of  what  you  are, 
Or  blinded  by  the  slanderer's  lies, 

Look  coldly  on  or  pass  you  by 

In  silence,  with  averted  eye. 

But  when  the  friends  in  whom  you  trust 
As  steadfast  as  the  mountain  rock, 

Fly,  and  are  scattered  like  the  dust, 
Before  misfortune's  rudest  shock, 

Nor  love  remains  to  cheer  your  fall  — 

This  is  more  terrible  than  all. 

Yet  even  this,  and  these  —  ay,  more, 
Can  be  endured,  and  hope  survive ; 

The  noble  spirit  still  may  soar, 
Although  the  body  fail  to  thrive ; 

Sorrow  and  want  may  wear  the  frame  — 

Thank  God!  the  soul  is  still  the  same. 

ANONYMOUS. 
[36] 


JANUARY   THIRTY-FIRST. 

ONE  month  of  the  New  Year  has  slipped  away, 
and  Time  is  hurrying  us  on.  Thirty-one  oppor- 
tunities have  been  yours  and  mine,  and  what  shall  be 
their  harvest,  —  wheat  or  tares?  Time  is  merciless; 
he  gives  us  but  one  choice,  and  that  must  be  made 
quickly.  With  his  sickle,  he  stands  ready  to  mow 
what  we  have  sown,  for  the  seed  springs  up  at  once  — 
the  coming  harvest  of  the  Eternal  Years.  Let  us  keep 
step  with  Time,  nor  forget  that  a  lost  day  can  never 
be  reclaimed. 

Every  day  is  a  possibility 

Of  doing  things  for  Christ ; 
Every  hour  is  an  opportunity 

Whose  value  is  unpriced ;  — 
Every  moment  a  mighty  potency 

Which  underlies  our  will ; 
Every  second  a  gift  of  destiny 

God's  glory  to  fulfil. 

IDA   SCOTT  TAYLOR. 

Labor  and  wait!  the  summer  of  the  Lord 

Runneth  the  whole  round  year.     The  "  tree  of  life  " 

Hath  not  one  month,  alone,  to  drop  its  fruit. 

And  is  it  hard?  aye,  and  it  is  not  hard. 

The  yoke  is  easy  when  it  fits  the  neck ; 

The  burden  light  upon  the  willing  back. 

AURILLA  FURBER. 

Look  not  mournfully  into  the  past ;  it   comes  not 
back  again.     Wisely  improve  the  present :  it  is  thine. 
Go  forth  to  meet  the  shadowy  future  without  fear,  and 
with  a  manly  heart.  —  HENRY  w.  LONGFELLOW. 
[37] 


T 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF    FEBRUARY. 


FEBRUARY   FIRST. 

IS  winter,  yet  there  is  no  sound 

Along  the  air 
Of  winds  along  their  battle-grounds ; 

But  gently  there 
The  snow  is  falling,  —  all  around, 

How  fair,  how  fair! 

RALPH    HOYT. 


Clothed  as  with  a  garment  of  ermine,  hung  with 
crystal  fringes,  February  is  King  !  Crowned  with  dia- 
monds, and  spangled  with  glittering  snowflakes,  how 
bright  is  his  apparel  in  the  beauty  of  a  winter  sunshine. 
He  spreads  his  fleecy  counterpane  over  the  mountains, 
valleys,  and  plains,  and  the  world  stands  dressed  like  a 
young  bride,  whose  veil  is  woven  by  the  skilful  fingers 
of  the  Frost-artist.  How  soft  is  the  step  of  this  royal 
newcomer,  for  oh,  underneath  him  lie  folded  buds  and 
blossoms,  and  the  time  is  not  yet  for  their  glad  awaken- 
ing. Speak  gently,  O  King  February!  for  they  are 
sleeping  but  lightly,  and  the  bosom  of  Mother  Earth 
shall  cradle  them  only  a  little  longer. 

Under  the  snowdrift  the  blossoms  are  sleeping, 
Dreaming  their  dreams  of  sunshine  and  June  ; 

Down  in  the  hush  of  their  quiet  they're  keeping 

Thrills  from  the  throstle's  wild  summer-swung  tune. 

HARRIET   PRESCOTT   SPOFFORD. 
[38] 


HENRY   W.   LONGFELLOW 
1807-1883 


FEBRUARY   SECOND. 

CAST  thy  burden  upon  the  Lord,  and  He  shall  sus- 
tain thee ;  He  shall  never  suffer  the  righteous  to 
be  moved.  —  PSALM  55  :  22. 

Discouraged  in  the  work  of  life, 

Disheartened  by  the  load, 
Shamed  by  its  failures  or  its  fears, 

I  sink  beside  the  road ;  — 
But  let  me  only  think  of  Thee, 
And  then  new  heart  springs  up  in  me. 

SAMUEL    LONGFELLOW. 

There  is  no  calm  like  that  when  storm  is  done ; 

There  is  no  pleasure  keen  as  pain's  release ; 

There  is  no  joy  that  lies  so  deep  as  peace, 
No  peace  so  deep  as  that  by  struggle  won. 

HELEN   GRAY   CONE. 

Be  trustful,  be  steadfast,  whatever  betide  thee, 
Only  one  thing  do  thou  ask  of  the  Lord,  — 

Grace  to  go  forward  wherever  He  guide  thee, 
Simply  believing  the  truth  of  His  word. 

ANONYMOUS. 

We  tell  Thee  of  our  care, 
Of  the  sore  burden,  pressing  day  by  day : 
And  in  the  light  and  pity  of  Thy  face, 

The  burden  melts  away. 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

Thus  watched  and  guarded,  every  step 

Is  under  His  control ; 
The  children  of  the  Lord  are  safe, 

Though  worlds  in  conflict  roll. 

SUSAN  V.   ALDRICH. 
[39] 


FEBRUARY   THIRD. 

DO  not  allow  a  day  to  pass  without  taking  a  step 
forward.  The  world  is  moving,  why  not  you? 
Build  for  eternity.  Begin  with  the  sure  foundation, 
Jesus  Christ,  and  your  structure  will  stand  the  storm 
and  shock  of  Doubt  and  Temptation.  Let  "  no  foot- 
steps backward "  be  your  motto :  look  up,  take  cour- 
age and  press  on.  Do  not  expect  too  much  of  yourself; 
be  content  to  take  one  step  at  a  time,  and  leave  the 
result  with  God.  If  we  push  on  and  up,  we  will  grow 
into  the  light  of  God  in  His  own  good  time. 

As  the  rivers,  farthest  flowing, 

In  the  highest  hills  have  birth ; 
As  the  banyan,  broadest  growing, 

Oftenest  bows  its  head  to  earth  ; 
As  the  noblest  minds  press  onward, 

Channels  far  of  good  to  trace ; 
So  the  largest  hearts  bend  downward, 

Circling  all  the  human  race. 

SARAH  JOSEPH  A   HALE. 

Let  me  find  in  Thy  employ 
Peace  that  dearer  is  than  joy ; 
Out  of  self  to  love  be  led 
And  to  Heaven  acclimated, 
Until  all  things  sweet  and  good 
Seem  my  natural  habitude. 

JOHN   GREENLEAF   WHITTIER. 

All  common  things,  each  day's  events, 
That  with  the  hour  begin  and  end, 

Our  pleasures  and  our  discontents, 
Are  rounds  by  which  we  may  ascend. 

HENRY  W.    LONGFELLOW. 
[40! 


FEBRUARY   FOURTH. 

YOU  mean  to  be  true ;  but  once  your  truth  sleeps 
on  its  guard,  and  the  Edomite  is  over  the  valley, 
and  the  lie  is  right  in  the  very  midst  of  your  well- 
guarded  truthfulness. —PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

Yes,  we  "  mean  to  be  true  " ;  we  are  hurt  and  disap- 
pointed if  a  friend  deceives  us,  and  if  we  lose  faith  in 
humanity ;  but  how  about  ourselves  f  Circumstances 
make  us  what  we  are,  we  say,  by  way  of  apology ;  and 
how  ready  we  are  to  lay  the  blame  on  anything  or  any- 
body, so  that  we  may  escape  censure.  Some  people 
are  truthful,  strictly  so,  but  they  do  not  possess  tact 
and  delicacy :  they  are  continually  wounding  or  offend- 
ing those  around  them,  when  if  they  seek  to  be  con- 
siderate and  kind,  as  well  as  truthful,  they  would  save 
many  a  cruel  thrust  and  heart-ache.  Truth  is  a  grand 
thing,  but  it  is  even  grander  to  know  how  to  speak  it. 

Appear  I  always  what  I  am? 

And  am  I  what  I  am  pretending? 

Know  I  what  way  my  course  is  bending? 
And  sound  my  word  and  thought  the  same? 

ANONYMOUS. 

Put  golden  padlocks  on  Truth's  lips,  be  callous  as  ye 

will, 
From  soul  to  soul,  o'er  all  the  world,  leaps  one  electric 

thrill. 

JAMES   RUSSELL   LOWELL. 

Prose  is  truth  looking  on  the  ground,  eloquence  is 
truth  looking  up  to  Heaven,  poetry  is  truth  looking 
upward  toward  God.  —  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 
[41] 


FEBRUARY   FIFTH. 

IV'INDNESS  is  the  heartsease  of  the  heart.  Don't 
A*-  be  too  quick  to  see  faults  in  other  people  :  correct 
your  own,  and  you  will  find  little  time  for  criticising 
those  around  you.  Better  seem  to  be  a  neglectful 
friend  than  an  unkind  one.  Keep  your  friendship  un- 
impaired, and  let  some  one  else  pick  the  flaws.  If  it  is 
necessary  for  you  to  assume  this  unpleasant  duty,  ask 
God  to  show  you  the  best  way  to  do  it,  and  let  it  be 
done  with  a  sense  of  delicacy,  and  in  a  manner  so  gentle 
and  courteous  that  your  friend  may  be  neither  hurt 
nor  offended.  The  character  most  closely  resembling 
Christ's  is  the  one  that  rules  by  kindness. 

Words  of  kindness  fitly  spoken 
Fall  like  sunshine  on  the  heart, 

Breaking  up  its  frozen  currents, 
That  new  life  it  may  impart. 

Perfect,  says  the  Holy  Bible, 

On  which  we  for  life  depend, 
Is  the  man  whose  tongue  is  governed, 

And  whose  lips  do  not  offend. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Unto  the  one  who  labors, 

Fearless  of  foe  or  frown, 
Unto  the  kindly-hearted, 

Cometh  a  blessing  down. 

MARY  F.    TUCKER. 

Oh,  blest  are  uneventful  lives, 

Of  whom  small  story  we  can  tell, 
But  which,  when  all  the  page  is  writ, 

Breathe  out  like  heartsease,  "  It  is  well." 

HATTIE   TYNG   GRISWOLD. 
[42] 


FEBRUARY   SIXTH. 

GOD'S  care  for  us!  how  tender,  how  watchful,  how 
sheltering  it  is.  We  are  never  away  from  His 
thoughts  for  a  moment ;  go  where  we  will,  He  follows 
us ;  stay  where  we  are,  He  abides  with  us  —  constant, 
vigilant,  and  steadfast ;  oh,  how  true  and  loving  He  is ! 
He  never  forgets  His  own,  they  are  safe  with  the  One 
who  loves  them  best. 

Dear  tired  heart  by  ills  oppressed, 
Fly  to  the  shelter  of  God's  breast! 
What  can  hurt  thee  or  alarm, 
Within  the  circle  of  God's  arm  ? 
Never  mind  earth's  stormy  weather, 
God  and  His  own  are  close  together! 

MARY   F.    BIGELOW. 

Behind  the  dim  unknown  ; 

Standeth  God  within  the  shadow,  keeping  watch  above 
His  own. 

JAMES   RUSSELL   LOWELL. 

When  clouds   gather  round   us   He   makes   the  way 

bright, 

He  fills  us  with  joy,  with  love  and  with  light ; 
Oh !  whatever  befalls,  we  never  need  fear, 
Since  in  joy  or  in  sorrow  He  ever  is  near. 

ANNA   HOLYOKE   HOWARD. 

God  is  not  far  above  us,  bending  low 

His  gracious  head,  our  human  wants  to  know, 

Our  prayers  to  hear ; 
But  He  is  omnipresent,  and  my  cry 
Need  not  be  wafted  far  beyond  the  sky, 

To  gain  His  ear. 

ALICE   M.   ADKINS. 
[43] 


FEBRUARY  SEVENTH. 

"  A  ND  be  not  weary  in  well-doing."  With  what 
•ix  pleasure  and  satisfaction  we  review  a  day  spent 
in  well-doing.  God's  peace  steals  over  us  like  a  bene- 
diction, when  we  can  lift  our  eyes  and  hearts  to  Him, 
and  truthfully  say,  u  Father,  I  have  done  my  best." 

It  is  not  the  well-doing,  but  the  ill-doing,  that  wearies 
us  most :  the  consciousness  of  a  misspent  day  is  like  a 
"  thorn  in  the  flesh,"  that  rankles  and  tortures  us,  often, 
far  into  the  still  hours  of  the  night.  But  we  lie  down 
to  pleasant  dreams,  assured  of  the  approval  of  our 
Lord,  when  we  have  spent  a  day  in  earnest,  faithful 
well-doing.  Let  us  make  every  vocation  a  blessing, 
every  duty  a  labor  of  love,  and  the  homeliest  task  a 
stepping-stone  to  Heaven. 

You  must  live  each  day  at  your  very  best ; 
The  work  of  the  world  is  done  by  few ; 
God  asks  that  a  part  be  done  by  you. 

Have  a  purpose,  and  do  with  your  utmost  might ; 
You  will  finish  your  work  on  the  other  side, 
When  you  wake  in  His  likeness,  satisfied. 

SARAH   H.    BOLTON. 

No  man  is  born  into  the  world  whose  work 
Is  not  born  with  him ;  there  is  always  work, 
And  tools  to  work  withal,  for  those  who  will ; 
And  blessed  are  the  horny  hands  of  toil. 

JAMES  RUSSELL   LOWELL. 

If,  when  the  Master  comes  to  view  my  work, 
And  lay  it  in  His  balance  to  be  tried, 
I  find  that  others  were  enriched  thereby, 
I  shall  be  satisfied. 

A.    FULLER. 

[44] 


FEBRUARY   EIGHTH. 

ABOUT  the  most  disagreeable  people  on  the  face 
of  the  globe  are  those  who  make  the  assertion, 
"  I  always  speak  my  mind."  Such  people  take  unwar- 
ranted liberties  with  your  faults,  criticise  your  actions, 
dictate  to  you  regarding  family  and  business  affairs, 
and  feel  themselves  privileged  to  offer  any  suggestions 
they  may  deem  necessary,  simply  because  they  have 
formed  the  disagreeable  habit  of  "speaking  their 
mind."  There  is  always  a  sting  in  their  words ;  and 
many  a  sensitive  heart  is  wounded  by  their  unkind 
remarks,  in  the  course  of  a  day.  They  think  their 
motives  are  right ;  perhaps  they  are,  —  but  they  usually 
do  more  harm  than  good,  no  matter  what  their  inten- 
tions are.  How  much  more  do  we  love  the  friend  who 
speaks  to  us  tenderly  and  gently  of  a  fault ;  who  ven- 
tures to  suggest,  not  because  he  is  "  plain  spoken  "  and 
fancies  he  is  privileged  to  do  so,  anything  for  our  good, 
but  approaches  us  through  the  simple  words,  "  because 
you  are  my  friend."  The  liberty  of  a  true  friend  is 
very  different  indeed  from  that  of  one  who  apologizes 
for  hurting  one's  feelings  to  gratify  a  desire  to  be 
"  plain  spoken." 

I  pray  the  prayer  of  Plato  old,  — 
God  make  thee  beautiful  within, 

And  let  thine  eyes  the  good  behold 
In  everything  save  sin. 

JOHN   G.    WHITTIER. 

I  hold  that  Christian  grace  abounds 
Where  charity  is  seen  ;  that  when 

We  climb  to  Heaven,  'tis  on  the  rounds 
Of  love  to  men. 

ALICE   GARY. 

[45] 


FEBRUARY   NINTH. 

WHAT  lies  under  the  snow?  There  the  secrets 
of  God  are  hidden  away,  awaiting  the  sound  of 
His  voice,  to  be  revealed,  and  the  touch  of  His  hand, 
to  spring  into  life  and  gladness.  Into  what  purity, 
beauty,  and  fragrance  they  shall  soon  unfold ;  and 
dewy  and  fresh  from  their  sweet  silence  and  sleep, 
shall  rise  and  sing  and  bud  and  bloom  and  shine. 
His  birds,  on  lightsome  wings,  shall  praise  him  in 
meadow  and  grove,  His  flowers  shall  swing  censers  of 
rare  perfume  to  sweeten  all  the  air,  and  His  sun  shall 
warm  and  glow  and  brighten  and  kiss  the  frozen  lakes 
and  streams,  until  they  break  into  singing  waves  of  joy. 
O  the  mysteries  of  His  love!  What  surprises  are  in 
store  for  us  hidden  under  the  snow!  what  glories  are 
in  readiness  for  us  when  Life's  winter  is  past,  and  we 
stand  waiting  for  the  morning  of  God's  Eternal  Spring! 


Still  lie  the  flowers  in  their  cold,  winter  sleeping, 
Pulsing  with  life  in  the  darkness  below ; 

They  shall  be  brighter  by  far  for  their  keeping, 
Guarded  so  tenderly  under  the  snow. 

They  shall  be  watched  with  a  loving  protection, 

They  shall  awake  when  Spring's  trumpet  shall  blow, 

Breathing  the  joy  of  the  glad  resurrection,  — 
They  shall  be  glorified,  under  the  snow. 

We,  like  the  flowers,  shall  wait  for  Spring's  morning, 

List  for  the  summons  God's  chosen  shall  know ; 
Then  shall  His  glory,  our  spirits  adorning, 
Brightly  transfigure  us,  under  the  snow. 

I.  s.  T. 
{46] 


FEBRUARY   TENTH. 

HALF  of  our  worry  and  anxiety  arises  from  allow- 
ing ourselves  to  shoulder  the  burden  of  responsi- 
bility and  care  that  we  have  never  yet  possessed.  We 
look  forward  to  the  future  and  dread  its  uncertainty  and 
imagined  ills,  exhausting  the  strength  that  belongs  to 
the  present  time  alone.  Each  day  has  its  trials ;  why 
not  bear  them,  nor  seek  to  rob  to-morrow  of  its  share  ? 
This  is  why  we  grow  old  before  our  time,  because  we 
crowd  to-morrow's  burdens  into  to-day1s.  The  man 
who  carries  a  lantern  on  a  dark  night,  does  not  attempt 
to  light  the  length  of  his  entire  journey  at  once,  but 
contents  himself  with  enough  radiance  for  a  single  step 
at  a  time.  Let  us  use  the  strength  allowed  for  each 
day,  and  we  will  find  it  sufficient  for  our  wants.  God 
is  always  generous  in  His  measures ;  He  does  not  stint 
us,  and  is  a  better  judge  of  our  needs  than  we. 

Strength  for  to-day  is  all  that  we  need, 
As  there  never  will  be  a  to-morrow : 

For  to-morrow  will  prove  but  another  to-day, 
With  its  measure  of  joy  and  sorrow. 

Strength  for  to-day  —  in  house  and  home 
To  practise  forbearance  sweetly  — 

To  scatter  kind  words  and  loving  deeds, 
Still  trusting  in  God  completely. 

Strength  for  to-day  —  that  our  precious  youth 

May  happily  shun  temptation, 
And  build  from  the  rise  to  the  set  of  sun 

On  a  strong  and  sure  Foundation. 

MRS.    M.   A   KIDDER. 

As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be.  —  DEUTERON- 
OMY 33  -.25. 

[47] 


FEBRUARY   ELEVENTH. 

ACCENT  is  the  strength  of  poetry.     It  throws  into 
grace  and  harmony  the  sentiment  and  metre,  and 
versifies  thought. 

The  accent  of  life  is  purpose.  An  aimless  existence 
is  an  insult  to  our  Maker,  who  has  created  us  for  His 
glory  and  the  good  of  mankind.  The  poetry  of  our 
being  loses  its  rhythm  without  purpose ;  we  become 
dull  and  prosaic,  and  lead  a  colorless  life.  Purpose  is 
an  artist  whose  harmony  of  color  makes  radiant  our 
sunrise,  and  glorious  our  sunset. 


'Tis  thine,  O  Work  —  the  joy  supreme  of  thought, 
Where  feeling,  purpose,  and  long  patience  meet ; 
Where  in  deep  silence  the  ideal  wrought 
Bourgeons  from  blossoming  to  fruit  complete. 

MARY   CLEMMER  AMES. 


Enthusiasm  —  holy  power!  best  alchemist  art  thou, 
Kindled  from  soul  to  soul,  and  sped  from  radiant  brow 

to  brow, 

Changing  to  joy  all  duty,  and  on  transfiguring  heights 
Showing  us  all  the  shades  of  earth  fair  with  celestial 

lights. 

LOUISA  P.   HOPKINS. 


Oh,  sweet  to  feel,  beyond  all  speech, 
That  most  and  best  of  human  kind 
Have  leave  to  live  beyond  the  reach 
Of  toil  that  tarnishes,  and  find 
No  tongue  but  Envy's  to  impeach! 

J.    G.    HOLLAND. 

[48] 


FEBRUARY   TWELFTH. 

WE  need  more  faith.  This  is  why  we  are  discour- 
aged and  disheartened  so  often  ;  why  life  looks 
so  gloomy  and  why  Hope  hides  her  face  from  us.  We 
are  not  willing  to  let  God  lead  us ;  we  would  rather 
walk  alone,  and  trust  to  our  poor  blind  eyes,  and  our 
weary,  faltering  feet  to  find  the  way  Home.  Instead  of 
putting  our  hand  into  God's  hand,  and  cheerfully  be- 
lieving in  Him,  we  toil  on  and  on,  over  hills  of  diffi- 
culty, down  valleys  of  shadow,  and  into  pitfalls  of 
temptation.  There  is  no  need  of  all  this ;  it  is  only 
making  trouble  for  ourselves.  Instead  of  singing  and 
smiling  and  trusting  as  we  go,  we  are  groping  about 
for  the  light,  when  there  is  a  Light  just  within  our 
reach,  and  a  refuge  ever  nigh.  Oh,  for  the  faith  of  the 
snowdrop  and  the  violet!  They  never  question  why 
they  are  shut  up  in  silence  and  darkness,  they  only 
trust  and  wait,  and  in  His  time  they  will  bloom  in 
humble  faith  because  it  is  their  mission. 

Surely  if  His  mysteries  are  hidden  from  us  for  a  time, 
if  we  are  strong  in  faith  and  trust,  our  souls  shall  blos- 
som into  gladness,  "  when  the  mists  have  rolled  away." 

Blind  Love,  who  could  not  see  beyond  the  mould 
And  watch  the  new  life  quicken  from  decay, 

Who  could  not  trust  the  Lord  who  rules  the  night 
To  bring  the  blossoms  of  some  fresh  spring  day. 

MARIE  B.   WILLIAMS. 

Just  as  Thy  providence  unfolds, 
Life's  path  we'll  meekly  tread, 

If  we  may  only  see  the  bow 
Of  promise  overhead. 

EMILY   P.    WILLIAMS. 
A  4  [49] 


FEBRUARY   THIRTEENTH. 

HpHOU  hast  girded  me  with  strength  unto  the  battle  : 
J-    Thou  hast  subdued  under  me  those  that  rose  up 
against  me. — PSALM  18:39. 

Though  daily  life's  warfare  your  spirit  may  try, 
Go  manfully  onward,  to  fail  is  to  die ; 
Go,  girded  with  valor,  and  courage,  and  strength  — 
Your  Captain's  approval  shall  crown  you  at  length. 

i.  s.  T. 

In  God's  own  might 
We  gird  us  for  the  coming  fight, 
And,  strong  in  Him  whose  cause  is  ours, 
In  conflict  with  unholy  powers, 
We  grasp  the  weapons  He  has  given,  — 
The  Light,  and  Truth,  and  Love  of  Heaven. 

JOHN  G.    WH1TTIER. 

Life  is  a  battle !    How  these  sayings  trite 

Which  school-boys  write  —  and  know  not  what  they 

write  — 

In  after  years  begin  to  burn  and  glow! 
What  man  is  here  that  has  not  found  it  so? 

Ah,  ye  recruits,  with  flags  and  arms  unsustained, 
See  by  what  toil  and  moil  the  heights  are  gained! 

EDMUND   CLARENCE   STEDMAN. 

Forward  shall  be  our  watchword, 
As  weeks  and  months  revolve, 

Forward  in  earnest  purpose, 
And  in  each  high  resolve. 

MRS.   M.   A.    KIDDER. 
[SO] 


FEBRUARY   FOURTEENTH. 

OH,  day  of  loves  and  loving!  Isn't  it  a  blessed 
thing  to  know  that  young  or  old,  great  or  small, 
we  are,  every  one  of  us,  a  Valentine  to  somebody? 
Throughout  the  wide  world  to-day,  rosy  little  Cupids 
are  flying  back  and  forth  on  gladsome  wing,  bearing 
messages  of  love  to  happy  waiting  hearts ;  and  we, 
you  and  I,  catch  the  inspiration  of  their  joy  and  smile 
because  there  is  love  within  us,  about  us,  and  above  us. 
God  Himself  is  love ;  the  world  is  love ;  and  we  are 
akin  to  God,  and  a  part  of  the  world  ;  therefore  we  love 
Him  and  His  works,  and  one  another. 

Love's  the  essence  of  all  things ; 

'Tis  from  Love  that  beauty  springs, 

'Twas  by  Love  creation  first 

Into  glorious  beauty  burst. 

Spirit  sweet,  —  all  else  above,  — 
Love  is  God,  since  God  is  love! 

ANONYMOUS. 

Love  is  enough.     Why  should  we  ask  for  more? 

What  greater  gifts  have  gods  vouchsafed  to  men? 
What  better  boon  of  all  their  precious  store 

Than  our  fond  hearts  that  love  and  love  again  ? 
Old  love  may  die ;  new  love  is  just  as  sweet ; 
And  life  is  fair,  and  all  the  world  complete : 
Love  is  enough! 

ELLA  WHEELER. 

Love  with  all  your  heart  and  soul, 
Love  with  eye  and  ear  and  touch  ; 

That's  the  moral  of  the  whole, 
You  can  never  love  too  much. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[51] 


FEBRUARY   FIFTEENTH. 

"OUT  where  shall  wisdom  be  found?  and  where  is  the 
•L'  place  of  understanding? 

Man  knoweth  not  the  price  thereof;  neither  is  it 
found  in  the  land  of  the  living. 

The  depth  saith,  It  is  not  with  me :  and  the  sea 
saith,  It  is  not  with  me. 

It  cannot  be  gotten  for  gold,  neither  shall  silver  be 
weighed  for  the  price  thereof. 

It  cannot  be  valued  with  the  gold  of  Ophir,  with  the 
precious  onyx,  or  the  sapphire. 

The  gold  and  the  crystal  cannot  equal  it ;  and  the 
exchange  of  it  shall  not  be  for  jewels  of  fine  gold.  No 
mention  shall  be  made  of  coral,  or  of  pearls ;  for  the 
price  of  wisdom  is  above  rubies. 

The  topaz  of  Ethiopia  shall  not  equal  it,  neither 
shall  it  be  valued  with  pure  gold. 

Whence  cometh  wisdom?  and  where  is  the  place  of 
understanding  ? 

God  understandeth  the  way  thereof,  and  He  knoweth 
the  place  thereof. 

And  unto  man  He  saith,  Behold  the  fear  of  the 
Lord,  that  is  wisdom :  and  to  depart  from  evil  is 
understanding. — JOB  28:12-28. 

Mount  up  to  the  heights  of  wisdom, 

And  crush  each  error  low ; 
Keep  back  no  words  of  knowledge 

That  human  hearts  should  know. 

Be  faithful  to  thy  mission 

In  service  of  thy  Lord, 
And  then  a  golden  chaplet 

Shall  be  thy  just  reward. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[52] 


FEBRUARY   SIXTEENTH. 

FIND  the  best  things  in  life,  and  appropriate  them. 
Get  all  the  happiness  you  can  as  you  pass  along, 
and  then  share  it  with  some  one  who  has  less  than 
yourself.  Do  not  cling  to  worldly  pleasures ;  they 
cannot  last.  Set  not  your  affections  on  riches ;  they 
"  take  wings  and  fly  away."  Establish  no  idols  in  your 
household  to  worship  and  bow  down  to :  there  is  but 
one  God  only,  let  Him  have  no  rival  in  your  heart. 
Search  for  the  good,  the  true,  and  the  beautiful,  but  let 
them  always  belong  to  God  and  Eternity.  Hold  fast 
to  such  things  as  shall  benefit  your  soul. 

In  the  bitter  waves  of  woe, 

Beaten  and  tossed  about 
By  the  sullen  winds  that  blow 

From  the  desolate  shores  of  Doubt, 
Where  the  anchors  that  Faith  has  cast 

Are  dragging  in  the  gale, 
I  am  quietly  holding  fast 

To  the  things  that  cannot  fail. 

•      WASHINGTON  GLADDEN. 

Let  us  gather  up  the  sunbeams 

Lying  all  around  our  path, 
Let  us  keep  the  wheat  and  roses, 

Casting  out  the  thorns  and  chaff. 

MAY   RILEY   SMITH. 

Thousands  of  years  agone  were  chance  and  change, 
Thousands  of  ages  hence  the  same  shall  be ; 

Naught  of  thy  joy  and  grief  is  new  or  strange  : 
Gather  apace  the  good  that  falls  to  thee! 
'Tis  all  in  a  lifetime! 

EDMUND   CLARENCE   STEDMAN. 
[S3] 


FEBRUARY    SEVENTEENTH. 

DON'T  forget  to  pray.  Go  to  God  for  things  you 
need,  and  ask  in  simple  faith  for  temporal  and 
spiritual  blessings.  God  is  abundantly  able  to  give : 
He  is  generous,  He  is  willing ;  why  not  tell  Him  your 
wants?  He  is  your  Father,  you  are  His  child,  and  it 
is  your  right  to  confide  in  Him,  to  believe  on  Him,  and 
to  be  dependent  on  His  bounty.  You  cannot  see  Him, 
but  His  inward  peace  assures  you  He  is  near.  You 
cannot  hear  the  sound  of  His  voice  or  footsteps,  yet  in 
the  hallowed  silence  when  you  lift  your  heart  to  Him, 
you  feel  His  sacred  Presence,  and  cling  to  His  promises 
by  faith.  Commune  with  Him  in  the  dewy  dawn  of 
the  morning ;  gather  from  Him  strengthening  manna 
for  the  day ;  let  a  little  prayer  run  upward  to  Heaven 
during  your  busiest  moments ;  and  seek  again  the 
Throne  of  Grace  when  the  curtain  of  night  is  hung 
over  the  sleeping  world.  O  there  is  no  time  that  you 
do  not  need  prayer! 

What'er  the  care  which  breaks  thy  rest, 
Whatever  the  wish  that  swells  thy  breast ; 
Spread  before  God  that  wish,  that  care, 
And  change  anxiety  to  prayer. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Press  not  thy  purpose  on  thy  Lord, 

Urge  not  thy  erring  will, 
Nor  dictate  to  the  Eternal  mind, 

Nor  doubt  thy  Maker's  skill. 

True  prayer  is  not  the  noisy  sound 

That  clamorous  lips  repeat, 
But  the  deep  silence  of  a  soul 

That  clasps  Jehovah's  feet. 

LYDIA   HUNTLEY   SIGOURNEY. 
[54] 


FEBRUARY  EIGHTEENTH. 

OH,  the  sweetness  of  sympathy!  It  dries  our  tears, 
soothes  our  aching  hearts,  and  pours  balm  on  our 
sorrowing  spirits.  A  pleasure  is  only  half  a  pleasure 
when  not  shared  by  some  one  else.  Nature's  great 
warm  heart  is  full  of  sympathy,  and  we  may  learn  daily 
lessons  from  her.  When  the  sun  rises  in  the  morning, 
and  his  bright,  jolly  face  peeps  over  the  distant  hills, 
the  streams  leap  up  and  rejoice,  the  birds  pour  forth 
melodious  notes  of  gladness,  and  the  flowers  unfold 
their  silken  leaves,  and  open  their  little  sensitive  hearts 
for  his  warm,  loving  kiss.  The  dewy  grass  trembles 
with  happiness,  the  leaves  whisper  together,  and  the 
groves  are  astir :  the  whole  world  thrills  with  joy,  and 
Nature  has  not  a  discord  in  her  morning  hymn  of  praise. 
So  are  we  in  harmony  with  our  fellow-beings,  when 
warmed  and  gladdened  by  the  sunlight  of  divine  Love. 

Weep  o'er  one  another's  sorrow, 
Prove  thy  grief  in  loving  deed  ; 

Earth  is  fickle,  thy  to-morrow 
May  find  thee  in  sorest  need. 

Sing  o'er  one  another's  gladness, 
Praise  with  harp  of  sweetest  tone  ; 

Earth  hath  full  enough  of  sadness, 
Joy  should  never  sing  alone. 

ISADORE  G.   JEFFERY. 

The  lightest  care,  while  yet  concealed, 
Lies  like  a  mountain  on  the  breast ; 

The  heaviest  grief,  when  once  revealed, 
Is  lulled  by  Sympathy  to  rest. 

MARION   H.    RAND. 

[55] 


FEBRUARY   NINETEENTH. 

HAPPINESS  is  the  sunshine  of  the  heart.  Its 
rays  dispel  the  clouds  in  life's  sky,  and  drive 
away  tempests  of  doubt  and  storms  of  despair.  If  the 
heart  is  full  of  sunshine,  it  brims  over  in  the  eyes,  and 
flows  from  the  tongue  like  liquid  silver.  Happy  words 
are  ever  welcome  words,  and  blessed  is  he  whose  earthly 
mission  is  to  make  cheerful  and  bright  those  around 
him.  There  is  always  a  corner  in  every  household  for 
the  happy  guest :  the  guest  who  is  contented  with 
everything,  who  demands  little,  and  whose  sunny  pres- 
ence is  reflected  in  every  face  into  which  he  looks. 
He  has  a  courteous  way  of  smoothing  out  little  diffi- 
culties, and  of  smiling  down  impatient  words,  and  of 
seeing  the  best  side  of  everything.  Blessed  are  the 
happy-hearted ;  would  that  earth  had  more  of  them ! 

Do  not  look  for  wrong  and  evil, 

You  will  find  them  if  you  do ; 
As  you  measure  for  your  neighbor 

He  will  measure  back  to  you. 

Look  for  goodness,  look  for  gladness, 
You  will  meet  them  all  the  while ; 

If  you  bring  a  smiling  visage 
To  the  glass,  you  meet  a  smile. 

ALICE  GARY. 

An  effort  made  for  the  happiness  of  others  lifts  us 
above  ourselves.  —  MRS.  L.  M.  CHILD. 

Surely  happiness  is  reflective.  .  .  .  and  every  coun- 
tenance bright  with  smiles,  and  glowing  with  innocent 
enjoyment,  is  a  mirror  transmitting  to  others  the  rays 
of  a  supreme  and  ever-shining  benevolence.  —  IRVING. 
[56] 


C 


FEBRUARY   TWENTIETH. 

ONSCIOUS  of  purity  and  worth, 
You  may  with  calm  assurance  wait 

The  tardy  recompense  of  earth  ; 
And  e'en  should  justice  come  too  late 

To  soothe  the  spirit's  homeward  flight, 

Still  Heaven  at  last  the  wrong  shall  right. 

ANONYMOUS. 


There  is  always  a  recompense  for  the  faithful.  Often 
it  is  a  long  time  coming,  but  it  is  always  the  sweeter 
for  the  watching,  the  working,  and  the  waiting.  The 
patient  heart  will  see  its  dreams  fulfilled ;  the  weary 
hands  will  find  their  rest ;  the  tired  feet  end  their  pil- 
grimage ;  the  dim  eyes  regain  their  vision,  and  look 
into  the  sweet  Country  which  they  have  yearned  so 
long  to  see,  —  all  this,  and  more,  shall  be  our  recom- 
pense. Then  toil  on,  dear  fellow-worker,  the  reward 
will  be  yours,  in  God's  beautiful  Sometime. 

Fellow-workers  are  we  :  hour  by  hour, 

Human  tools  are  shaping  Heaven's  great  scheme, 
Till  we  see  no  limit  to  man's  power 

And  reality  outstrips  our  dream. 
Toil  and  struggle,  therefore,  work  and  weep, 
In  God's  acre  ye  shall  calmly  sleep, 

When  the  night  cometh! 

EMMA   C.    EMBURY. 

I  thank  Thee  for  my  dreams,  which  loose  the  bond 
That  lies  beyond  the  boundaries  of  sense, 
When  I  shall  wash  away  the  stains  of  time 
In  floods  of  recompense. 

J.    G.    HOLLAND. 
[57] 


FEBRUARY  TWENTY-FIRST. 

SOMETIMES  we  are  so  sensitive  to  a  word  or  a 
look  that  our  hearts  cry  out  for  tenderness.  Per- 
haps the  day's  trials  have  been  too  heavy,  or  the  night- 
watch  too  long.  Then  we  hunger  for  tenderness  and 
sympathy,  and  with  what  restfulness  do  we  turn  to  the 
true,  fond  hearts  that  know  and  understand  all  our 
needs,  and  give  us  the  comfort  for  which  we  long. 
But  sweeter  than  all  earthly  tenderness  is  the  ten- 
derness of  God.  His  promises  are  like  balm  to  our 
wounded  souls,  and  His  peace  "passeth  all  under- 
standing." 

The  lives  that  seem  so  poor,  so  low, 

The  hearts  which  are  so  cramped  and  dull, 

The  baffled  hopes,  the  impulse  slow, 

Thou  takest,  touchest  all,  and  lo! 
They  blossom  to  the  beautiful. 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

Not  unto  every  heart  is  God's  good  gift 

Of  simple  tenderness  allowed ;  we  meet 
With  love  in  many  fashions  when  we  lift 

First  to  our  lips  life's  waters  bitter-sweet. 
Love  comes  upon  us  with  resistless  power 

Of  curbless  passion  and  with  headstrong  will ; 
It  plays  around  like  April's  breeze  and  shower, 

Or  calmly  flows,  a  rapid  stream,  and  still. 
It  comes  with  blessedness  unto  the  heart 

That  welcomes  it  aright,  or  —  bitter  fate !  — 
It  wings  the  blossom  with  so  fierce  a  smart, 

That  love,  we  cry,  is  crueler  than  hate. 
And  then,  ah  me,  when  love  has  ceased  to  bless, 
Our  broken  hearts  cry  out  for  tenderness ! 

ANONYMOUS. 
[58] 


FEBRUARY   TWENTY-SECOND. 

WHEN  a  deed  is  done  for  freedom,  through  the 
broad  earth's  breast 

Runs  a  thrill  of  joy  prophetic,  trembling  on  from  east 
to  west. 

JAMES   RUSSELL   LOWELL. 

Washington's  birthday!  day  dear  to  every  American 
heart !  What  school  boy  or  girl,  what  man  or  woman, 
does  not  gladly  hold  in  remembrance  the  twenty-second 
day  of  February?  It  brings  to  us  the  thought  of  one 
whose  motto  might  have  been,  Suaviter  in  modo ;  forti- 
ter  in  re  —  gentle  in  manner,  but  resolute  in  deed !  With 
what  feelings  of  pride  we  refer  to  him  as  the  Father  of 
his  Country  —  our  Country  —  America, "  the  land  of  the 
free  and  the  home  of  the  brave  "  '.  All  over  the  vast  uni- 
verse to-day  shall  the  name  of  Washington  be  spoken 
with  love  and  reverence,  and  grateful  hearts  shall  sing 
his  praises  and  read  again  and  again  the  story  of  his 
grand  achievements.  Oh,  you  who  are  longing  to  be 
something  and  do  something  in  the  world,  reflect  upon 
the  character  of  Washington!  Emulate  his  nobility  of 
mind,  his  fixedness  of  purpose,  his  heroism  and  valor. 
Such  attributes  will  fit  you  for  responsibility  and  trust ; 
prepare  yourself  for  a  place,  and  God  will  prepare  a 
place  for  you. 

No  arch  nor  column,  in  courtly  English  or  courtlier 
Latin,  sets  forth  the  deeds  and  the  worth  of  the  Father 
of  his  Country ;  he  needs  them  not ;  the  unwritten 
benedictions  of  millions  cover  all  the  walls  [of  Mount 
Vernon] .  No  gilded  dome  swells  from  the  lowly  roof 
to  catch  the  morning  or  evening  beam ;  but  the  love 
and  gratitude  of  united  America  settle  upon  it  in  one 
eternal  sunshine.  —  EDWARD  EVERETT. 
[59] 


FEBRUARY   TWENTY-THIRD. 

THE  oft-repeated  question,  "What  is  Life?"  can 
only  be  answered  by  each  individual.  Make  a 
personal  thing  of  it;  what  is  your  life?  Is  it  a  selfish, 
thoughtless  existence,  or  a  loving  sacrifice  for  the  glory 
of  God  and  the  good  of  your  fellow-creatures?  Is  it  a 
downward  tendency  to  worldly  frivolities,  or  an  upward 
growth  to  the  things  that  belong  to  Heaven  ?  Life,  at 
best,  is  brief,  but  there  is  a  life  whose  span  is  not  meas- 
ured by  years,  and  to  whose  heights  we  may  not  climb 
until  our  earth-journey  is  ended,  and  we  have  entered 
into  "  the  rest  that  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God." 

But  this  we  know :  our  loved  and  dead,  if  they  should 

come  this  day  — 
Should  come  and  ask  us  "  What  is  life  ?  "  not  one  of  us 

could  say. 

Life  is  a  mystery  as  deep  as  ever  death  can  be, 
Yet  oh,  how  sweet  it  is  to  us  —  this  life  we  live  and 

see! 

MARY   MAPES   DODGE. 

A  little  smiling,  mingled  oft  with  tears, 

A  little  hoping,  linked  with  many  fears, 

A  little  trusting,  chased  by  doubt  and  dread, 

A  little  light  unto  much  darkness  wed  — 

This  we  call  life  —  to  breathe,  to  love,  to  die! 

Who  shall  for  us  unfold  the  great  sad  mystery  ? 

MRS.    HERRICK  JOHNSON. 

And  secrets  of  the  soul  that  doubts  and  yearns 

And  gropes  in  regions  dim, 
Till,  meeting  Christ  with  raptured  eye,  discerns 

Its  perfect  life  in  Him. 

HORATIO   NELSON   POWERS. 
[60] 


FEBRUARY   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

WE  are  often  made  better  by  disappointments; 
they  are  severe  discipline,  but  our  natures  are 
softened  and  subdued  by  them,  and  after  the  refining 
process  is  over,  we  can  look  up  through  our  tears  and 
smile,  and  thank  God  that  He  knew  what  was  best  for 
us.  Perhaps,  too,  the  very  things  for  which  we  longed 
and  prayed  would  have  made  us  very  unhappy  if  we 
had  possessed  them.  We  can  often  see  our  mistakes 
when  it  is  too  late  to  correct  them,  and  if  God,  in  His 
kindness,  denies  us  something  that  we  find  would  not 
have  been  good  for  us,  let  us  not  grieve  in  future 
because  our  wishes  are  not  always  fulfilled. 

It  may  be  our  lot  has  been  far  from  our  choosing, 
And  we  may  find  work  that  we  never  had  planned  ; 

But  often  we  gain  when  we  think  we  are  losing  — 
God  leads  us  in  ways  that  we  can't  understand. 

I.  s.  T. 

Better  to  mourn  a  blossom  snatched  away 
Before  it  reached  perfection,  than  behold, 
With  dry,  unhappy  eyes,  day  after  day, 
The  fresh  bloom  fade  and  the  fair  leaf  decay. 
Better  to  lose  the  dream  with  all  its  gold, 
Than  keep  it  till  it  changes  to  dull  gray. 

ELLA   WHEELER. 

Howe'er  we  trust  to  mortal  things, 
Each  hath  its  pair  of  folded  wings ; 
Though  long  their  terrors  rest  unspread, 
Their  fatal  plumes  are  never  shed ; 
At  last,  at  last,  they  stretch  in  flight, 
And  blot  the  day  and  blast  the  night! 

OLIVER  WENDELL    HOLMES. 
[61] 


FEBRUARY   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

"G*OR  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his 
-T  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in 
him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life.  — 

JOHN  3:16. 

Isn't  it  wonderful  that  God  should  have  loved  us  so  ? 
Is  it  not  beautiful  to  feel  and  know  that  His  love  goes 
on  from  day  to  day,  just  as  it  did  in  the  days  when  He 
gave  His  dear  Son  for  us ;  aye,  and  before  that,  when 
He  created  the  earth  for  our  abiding-place,  and  lighted 
it  with  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars.  How  tender  is  this 
love  that  enfolds  us,  encircles  us,  and  overshadows  us 
at  all  times!  It  is  sounded  through  the  ages,  engraven 
on  the  rocks,  and  chanted  by  the  "  everlasting  hills." 
The  ocean,  in  its  ceaseless  flow,  seems  eternally  sing- 
ing, "The  love  of  God!  the  love  of  God!  I  voice  the 
wondrous  love  of  God!"  Almighty  Maker  of  Heaven 
and  earth,  teach  us  to  know  and  feel  Thy  deep,  Thy 
boundless  love! 

We  are  the  mariners  and  God  the  sea, 
And  though  we  make  false  reckonings  and  run 
Wide  of  a  righteous  course  and  are  undone, 

Out  of  His  deeps  of  love  we  cannot  be. 

ALICE  GARY. 

What  meanest  thou  to  ask  me  why  I  sing, 
And  seem  all  day  as  happy  as  a  king  ? 

Need  I  repine, 

When  God  each  moment  proves  to  me  His  love, 
And  the  bright  home  of  happiness  above 

Is  promised  mine? 

ALICE   M.    ADKINS. 

[62] 


A 


FEBRUARY   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

ND  we  hear  the  tread  of  the  years  move  by, 
And  the  sun  is  setting  behind  the  hills. 

RICHARD  REALF. 


So  old  Time  keeps  up  his  march  —  tramp!  tramp! 
tramp!  on,  on  to  Eternity.  There  is  no  backward 
movement,  no  pausing  by  the  way,  but  ever  the  same 
steady,  forward  sweep  —  as  the  tide  rolls  in  from  the 
sea.  What  a  burden  he  carries ;  joys  and  sorrows, 
gains  and  losses,  hopes  and  fears,  smiles  and  tears,  all 
are  given  into  his  keeping  to  be  bound  into  a  pon- 
derous volume.  Your  deeds  and  mine  are  there,  and 
they  will  stand  opposite  our  names  when  the  Recording 
Angel  reviews  the  work  Time  has  wrought.  Will  they 
hide  under  a  cloud,  I  wonder,  or  stand  out  clear  as  the 
sunlight,  in  the  dawn  of  God's  Heavenly  Morning? 

And  while  to  one  engulfing  grave, 
By  Time's  swift  tide  we're  driven, 

How  sweet  the  thought  that  every  wave 
But  bears  us  nearer  Heaven! 

WILLIAM    GOLDSMITH   BROWN. 

All  outward  wisdom  yields  to  that  within, 
Whereof  no  creed  nor  canon  holds  the  key ; 

We  only  feel  that  we  have  ever  been, 
And  evermore  shall  be. 

BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

But  firmer  than  the  pillars  of  the  sky, 
Thou  standest  ever  by  a  power  Divine ; 

Thou  art  endowed  with  immortality, 

And  can'st  not  perish  —  God's  own  life  is  thine ! 

WILLIAM    LLOYD   GARRISON. 


FEBRUARY   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

WHERE  shall  we  begin  to  praise  God?  How 
shall  we  thank  Him  for  all  His  goodness  to  us? 
Oh,  were  we  to  begin  singing  now,  and  to  keep  on  sing- 
ing until  the  end  of  time,  we  could  never  voice  His 
praises  enough!  The  very  air  that  we  breathe  is  an 
invisible  proof  of  His  love  to  us ;  the  light,  the  shadow, 
and  the  darkness,  though  we  may  not  touch  them,  are 
each  a  thought  of  our  great  Creator.  Let  us  praise 
Him  for  life,  for  health  and  for  home,  for  food  and  for 
raiment,  and  for  every  season's  blessings,  for  daily 
mercies,  and  for  the  promise  of  life  everlasting.  "  Bless 
the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  forget  not  all  His  benefits." 

Sing,  heart  of  mine,  oh,  praise  His  name 
Whose  loving  care  hath  blessed  our  store ; 

With  glad  thanksgiving  praise  His  name 
Whose  care  surrounds  us  evermore. 

SYLVIA   BROWN. 

Lord,  for  the  erring  thought 
Not  into  evil  wrought : 
Lord,  for  the  wicked  will 
Betrayed  and  baffled  still : 
For  the  heart  from  itself  kept, 
Our  thanksgiving  accept. 

W.   D.    HOWELLS. 

Leave  me  to  the  humming 

Of  my  little  hive, 
Glad  to  earn  a  living, 

Glad  to  be  alive! 

LUCY   LARCOM. 

[64] 


FEBRUARY  TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

IF  we  would  reach  the  top,  we  must  climb.  Anything 
worth  having  is  worth  striving  for.  Did  you  ever 
scale  a  mountain?  If  so,  what  difficulties  you  en- 
countered, what  briers  and  thorns  and  tangled  shrub- 
bery obstructed  your  path!  What  hollows  and 
upheavals  were  before  you  —  hollows  where  the 
mountain-streams  had  trickled  down,  upheavals  where 
the  swollen  earth  had  burst  her  green-mantled  sod  — 
all  tending  to  make  your  ascent  difficult,  and  discourage 
and  dishearten  you!  But  with  what  eagerness  you 
turned  your  eyes  to  the  top,  where  the  great  vernal 
heights  stood  towering  up  into  the  fleecy  clouds!  It 
made  your  journey  less  wearisome  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  grandeur  above  you,  and  the  thought  of  reaching 
your  goal  was  of  itself  an  inspiration.  And  when  you 
stood  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  pines  on  the  mountain- 
top,  and  gazed  far  down  into  the  valley,  with  what  a 
sense  of  triumph  you  viewed  your  tiresome  journey! 
All  that  is  beautiful,  good,  and  true  lies  at  the  top,  and 
we  must  climb  to  attain  it.  God  is  the  grandest  and 
most  majestic  height  which  all  progressive  souls  are 
striving  to  reach,  and  to  rest  at  His  footstool  and 
beneath  the  shadow  of  His  wing  will  be  victory 
indeed. 

On  the  heights  we  are  near  to  Heaven, 

It  is  far  to  the  plains  below, 
So  far  it  is  dim  and  hazy 

And  loses  its  glory  and  glow, 
Until  a  mirage  we  deem  it, 
Between  the  Above  and  Below. 

HATTIE   TYNG   GRISWOLD. 
AS  [65] 


FEBRUARY  TWENTY-NINTH. 

GOD  has  granted  you  an  extra  day  in  which  to 
count  the  mercies  of  past  years.  Sum  them  up, 
if  you  can,  and  you  will  say  He  has  given  you  "  good 
measure ;  pressed  down,  and  running  over."  Surely 
your  cup  of  blessings  is  more  than  full.  A  good  way 
to  appreciate  your  mercies  is  to  think  of  the  ills  you 
have  escaped.  Every  trouble,  disappointment,  and 
sorrow  which  you  have  been  spared  is  a  blessing : 
every  calamity  which  has  touched  others  and  passed 
you  by  gives  you  reason  for  fresh  thanksgiving,  and 
if  you  were  half  as  grateful  as  you  ought  to  be,  you 
would  sing  for  joy  all  day  long. 

What  if  there  have  been  shadows  ?  Do  not  shadows 
intensify  light?  What  if  there  have  been  disappoint- 
ments ?  Have  there  not  been  sweet  surprises  as  well  ? 
Don't  forget  the  unexpected  blessings  that  God  has 
showered  upon  you  every  day ;  don't  take  them  as  a 
matter  of  course,  but  remember  they  are  especial  gifts 
from  Him,  and  should  be  thankfully  received  by  you. 
Though  so  unworthy,  we  are  all  the  daily  recipients  of 
God's  bounty,  love,  and  care,  and  as  such,  our  hearts 
should  continually  praise  and  magnify  His  name. 


My  Father!  what  am  I,  that  all 
Thy  mercies  sweet  like  sunlight  fall 

So  constant  o'er  my  way? 
That  Thy  great  love  should  shelter  me, 
And  guide  my  steps  so  tenderly 

Through  every  changing  day? 

ANONYMOUS. 


[66] 


HARRIET  BEECHER   &T01VE 
1811-1896 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF   MARCH- 


MARCH  FIRST. 

WITH  rushing  winds  and  gloomy  skies 
The  dark  and  stubborn  winter  dies  ; 
Far-off,  unseen,  Spring  faintly  cries, 
Bidding  her  earliest  child  arise ; 
March ! 

BAYARD  TAYLOR. 


A  lesson  hath  March  —  if  a  teacher  stern  — 
A  lesson  'twere  well  for  the  heart  to  learn. 
If  the  sky  is  dark  and  the  winds  are  cold, 
If  the  snows  are  deep  on  the  moor  and  wold, 
If  the  brown  buds  lie  in  their  cells  asleep, 
And  the  clouds  come  only  to  frown  or  weep ; 
If  the  spring  be  late  in  her  warm  embrace, 
She  comes  at  last  with  laughing  grace, 
With  flowery  banner,  with  rush  and  shout, 
She  will  put  all  the  legions  of  Frost  to  rout. 
Ah !  thus  if  life  is  a  weary  March, 
We  pass  to  joy  through  a  victor's  arch. 

HELEN   H.  RICH. 


Ah,  March!  we  know  thou  art 
Kind-hearted,  spite  of  ugly  looks  and  threats. 
And,  out  of  sight,  art  nursing  April's  violets ! 

HELEN   HUNT. 
[67] 


A 


MARCH   SECOND. 

H,  patience !     Ere  we  dream  of  it, 
Spring's  fair  new  gospel  will  be  writ. 

LUCY   LARCOM. 


Another  spring  has  dawned  ;  and  down  the  avenues 
of  Time  our  winter  has  silently  stolen  away.  Now  the 
furry  catkins  begin  to  unfold  their  downy  buds,  and 
early  flowers  are  peeping  from  the  leafy  mould  and 
swelling  into  beauty  and  fragrance.  The  maple's  heart 
pours  out  its  nectar,  and  the  honied  drops  gush  forth 
at  every  outlet.  This  is  the  year's  resurrection,  when 
out  of  the  ashes  of  Winter,  glad  Spring  awakens,  and 
soars,  as  with  wings,  up  into  the  new  life  and  beauty  of 
God's  gracious  sunshine.  O  heart  of  man,  sleep  no 
longer,  but  rouse  into  action!  Leave  behind  thee  the 
winter  of  dead  hopes,  and  put  on  the  beautiful  resurrec- 
tion-robes of  immortal  Spring. 

The  sunlight  fills  the  trembling  air, 
And  balmy  days  their  guerdons  bring ; 

The  earth  again  is  young  and  fair, 
And  amorous  with  musky  spring. 

EDMUND   C.    STEDMAN. 

Spring,  with  that  nameless  pathos  in  the  air 
Which  dwells  with  all  things  fair, 
Spring,  with  her  golden  suns  and  silver  rain, 
Is  with  us  once  again. 

HENRY  TIMROD. 

Every  clod  feels  a  stir  of  might, 

An  instinct  within  it  that  reaches  and  towers, 
And,  groping  blindly  above  it  for  light, 

Climbs  to  a  soul  in  grass  and  flowers. 

JAMES   RUSSELL   LOWELL. 
[68] 


MARCH   THIRD. 

"  T)  LESSED  are  the  peacemakers  :  for  they  shall  be 
-LJ  called  the  children  of  God."  Oh,  sweet  mission  of 
the  peacemaker,  it  is  blessed  indeed!  I  think  it  is  a 
natural  inheritance,  and  yet  we  may  all  cultivate  peace- 
making, to  a  certain  extent.  It  sometimes  develops  very 
early  in  a  child.  You  have  doubtless  noticed  several 
children  playing  together,  and  after  a  time  they  would 
chance  to  disagree,  just  as  their  elders  do,  and  perhaps 
angry  words  and  tears  would  follow,  until  into  their 
midst  came  one  sweet  child,  who  dispersed  the  clouds, 
settled  the  difficulty,  and  brought  a  smile  to  every 
little  troubled  face.  God  bless  these  rays  of  sunlight! 

Oh,  blessed  forever  the  "peacemakers"  are! 
They  shine  for  the  Lord  like  a  radiant  star, 
Diffusing  a  lustre  to  gladden  life's  way ; 
They  carry  His  sunshine  wherever  they  stray  — 
Yea,  blessed  indeed  is  the  path  they  have  trod, 
For  they  shall  be  known  as  "  the  children  of  God." 

Dear  Lord,  I  beseech  Thee  to  grant  me  this  grace, 

That  I  may  be  welcome  wherever  my  place : 

This  sweetness  of  manner,  whence  discord  shall  flee  — 

Oh,  grant  that  a  maker  of  peace  I  may  be, 

That  I  too  an  Heavenly  kinship  may  claim ; 

A  child  of  the  King  and  an  heir  to  His  Name! 

I.   S.   T. 

Drop  Thy  still  dews  of  quietness, 

Till  all  our  strivings  cease ; 
Take  from  our  souls  the  strain  and  stress, 
And  let  our  ordered  lives  confess 

The  beauty  of  Thy  peace. 

J.   G.    WHITTIER. 
[69] 


MARCH   FOURTH. 

TNAUGURATION  Day!  The  fourth  of  March  will 
A  ever  be  held  in  remembrance  by  all  loyal  Ameri- 
cans. Since  first  our  good  and  great  Washington 
stood  at  the  head  of  the  affairs  of  the  nation,  America 
has,  on  this  eventful  day,  witnessed  the  accession  to 
the  presidential  seat  of  many  noble  men,  whose  names 
have  been  an  honor  to  her,  and  whose  deeds  have 
been  written  with  pride  in  the  annals  of  our  illustri- 
ous nation.  Long  live  the  good  men  who  are  en- 
trusted with  our  public  welfare !  and  may  the  memory 
of  those  who  have  been  called  to  their  reward  ever 
dwell  in  our  hearts. 

May  the  white  page  of  the  future, 

Waiting  for  the  sons  of  men, 
To  enroll  their  names  upon  it 

With  a  clean,  untarnished  pen, 
Stand  emblazoned  in  God's  sunshine, 

Till  its  records  fair  and  pure 
Shall  be  traced  in  deeds  immortal, 

With  a  strength  that  shall  endure! 

May  the  rulers  of  our  nation, 

Following  the  good  and  great, 
Have  at  heart  the  rise  and  progress 

Of  Columbia's  future  state ; 
And  with  nobleness  of  purpose 

May  it  ever  be  their  aim 
To  uphold  our  country's  honor 

And  enhance  her  glorious  fame! 

I.  s.  T. 

Columbia,  Columbia,  to  glory  arise, 

The  queen  of  the  world  and  the  child  of  the  skies! 

TIMOTHY   DWIGHT. 

[70] 


MARCH  FIFTH. 

SOME  one  has  hurt  your  heart  and  made  you  grieve  ; 
The  day  has  been  too  dark  without  the  sun ; 
Something  has  been  too  hard ;  but  oh !  believe 
Others  have  suffered  just  as  you  have  done. 

MARGARET   ROX. 

Do  not  be  suspicious,  or  too  sensitive ;  people  often 
suffer  through  imaginary  causes.  Allow  no  little 
shadows  to  cloud  your  day.  Bear  sweetly  the  seeming 
unkindness,  —  do  not  magnify  it  into  something  great. 
Often  a  little  misunderstanding  at  morning  is  like  the 
mists :  it  melts  away  at  noonday,  and  leaves  the  sky 
of  your  heart  clear  and  bright.  Christ  knows  how  to 
sympathize  fully  with  you  in  the  smallest  happenings 
of  the  day;  confide  in  Him.  Trust  His  guidance  in 
all  things,  and  do  not  fear  to  unburden  your  heart  to 
Him. 

Fret  not,  poor  heart ;  the  sorrows  sore 
That  crush  thy  life  thy  Saviour  bore 
Once  for  thy  sake ;  yea,  this  and  more. 
God's  way  is  best ; 
Then  trust  and  rest. 

ANNA   HOLYOKE  HOWARD. 

Build  a  little  fence  of  Trust 

Around  to-day ; 
Fill  the  space  with  loving  work 

And  therein  stay. 

Look  not  through  the  sheltering  bars 

Upon  to-morrow ; 
God  will  help  thee  bear  what  comes 

Of  joy  or  sorrow. 

MRS.  F.  M.  BUTTS. 
[71] 


MARCH  SIXTH. 

T^\EAR  Father,  may  sweet  thoughts  of  heavenly  grace 
-*--'  Flow  through  the  hours  of  this  new  day  for  me ; 
Through  moments  glad  or  troubled  may  I  trace 
The  lines  of  love  that  link  my  soul  to  Thee  ; 
In  happy  trills  along  their  golden  length 

May  I  know  quickly  Thy  most  holy  will, 
And,  leaning  hard  upon  their  cords  of  strength, 
Feel  ready  to  press  onward  or  be  still. 

EDITH  G.  SERAN. 

Do  not  drift  through  the  day ;  do  your  part,  and 
take  hold  of  the  duty  that  claims  your  attention 
first.  Know  that  God  will  help  you,  no  matter  how 
hard  it  is,  and  that  the  path  cannot  be  too  rugged  for 
Him  to  walk  with  you.  Look  up!  the  Day-Star  is 
shining  above  you,  and  if  you  despair  not,  but  keep 
bravely  on,  there  will  be  a  glad  recompense  awaiting 
you  when  you  reach  the  end  of  the  way. 

Wayworn  and  weary,  each  succeeding  day, 

We  walk  in  weakness  —  walk,  and  wait,  and  pray 

For  strength  to  wend  aright  our  toilsome  way. 

Dark  drifting  clouds  hang  thick  about  our  path, 
Freighted  with  winds  and  gathering  storms,  each  hath 
The  un wrought  elements  of  angry  wrath. 

Thus  passing  on  through  anxious  toil  and  strife, 
The  years,  anon  with  joy,  anon  with  sorrow  rife, 
We  wend  our  way  towards  Everlasting  Life ; 

Towards  Life  Eternal,  each  succeeding  day, 
We  wander  on,  and  well,  if  thus  we  may 
But  find  our  path  leads  up  the  shining  Way. 

CLARK  W.  BRYAN. 
[72] 


MARCH  SEVENTH. 

DEEP  feeling  is  contagious.     Words  poured  forth 
from  burning  hearts  are  sure  to  kindle  the  hearts 
of  others.     Hearts  that  can  stand  everything  else  are 
often  melted   by  a  tear.     Let  the   heart  palpitate  in 
every  line,  and  burn  in  every  word.  —  ANONYMOUS. 

We  need  more  heart ;  we  do  not  care  enough  for 
our  neighbor's  welfare ;  we  concern  ourselves  too  little 
about  the  cares  and  responsibilities,  the  sorrows  and 
sufferings  of  others.  There  are  depths  within  us  that 
have  never  been  sounded,  feelings  that  have  never 
been  touched,  sympathies  that  lie  dormant.  Oh,  for 
the  heart  to  feel  and  love  as  we  ought !  Let  us  cultivate 
a  deeper  interest  in  humanity,  and  our  influence  shall 
kindle  other  hearts,  and  quicken  other  spirits,  and  the 
world  will  be  the  better  for  our  having  lived  in  it. 

Do  naught  but  good ;  for  such  the  nobler  strife 
Of  virtue  is,  'gainst  wrong  to  venture  love, 

And  for  thy  foe  devote  a  brother's  life, 
Content  to  wait  the  recompense  above ; 

Brave  for  the  truth,  to  fiercest  insult  meek, 

In  mercy  strong,  in  vengeance  only  weak. 

GEORGE  W.  BETHUNE. 

Poor  indeed  thou  must  be,  if  around  thee 
Thou  no  ray  of  light  and  joy  canst  throw, 

If  no  silken  cord  of  love  hath  bound  thee 
To  some  little  world  through  weal  and  woe ; 

If  no  dear  eyes  thy  fond  love  can  brighten,  — 
No  fond  voices  answer  to  thine  own ; 

If  no  brother's  sorrow  thou  canst  lighten, 
By  daily  sympathy  and  gentle  tone. 

HARRIET  WINSLOW. 
[73] 


MARCH   EIGHTH. 

WE  are  in  no  condition  for  good  work  of  any  kind 
when  we  are  fretted  and  anxious  in  mind.  It  is 
only  when  the  peace  of  God  is  in  our  hearts  that  we  are 
ready  for  true  and  really  helpful  ministry.  A  feverish 
heart  makes  a  worried  face,  and  a  worried  face  casts  a 
shadow.  A  troubled  spirit  mars  the  temper  and  dis- 
position. It  unfits  one  for  being  a  comforter  to  others, 
for  giving  cheer  and  inspiration,  for  touching  other 
lives  with  good  and  helpful  impulses.  Peace  must 
come  before  ministry.  We  need  to  have  our  fever 
cured  before  we  go  out  to  our  work.  Hence  we  should 
begin  each  new  day  at  the  Master's  feet,  and  get  His 
cooling,  quieting  touch  upon  our  hot  hand.  Then, 
and  not  until  then,  shall  we  be  ready  for  good  service 
in  His  name.  —  j.  R.  MILLER. 

Peace,  troubled  heart ;  beyond  these  bitter  breezes, 
Mid  Isles  of  Paradise,  in  airs  of  balm, 

Where  cruel  wind  or  word  ne'er  wounds  or  freezes, 
Thou'lt  gain  at  last  the  everlasting  calm. 

MARY   CLEMMER   AMES. 

Didst  thou  ever  feel  the  load  of  a  heavy,  toilsome 
burden,  an  anxiety  which  almost  broke  thy  heart,  and 
crushed  thy  spirit?  Then,  when  thou  wert  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  relieved  of  it,  the  restfulness  that 
followed  was  inexpressibly  sweet.  This  is  the  way 
God  comes  to  His  beloved.  In  the  midst  of  life's 
storms  and  tempests,  He  speaks  but  a  single  word,  and 
all  is  tranquil  within.  May  His  peace  abide  with  thee! 

Peace,  sweet  peace,  is  ever  found 
In  her  eternal  home  on  holy  ground. 

EMMA   C.   EMBURY. 

[74] 


MARCH   NINTH. 

MAN,  made  in  the  image  of  God,  what  is  he  ?  He 
cannot  be  equal  with  God,  but  he  may  be  like 
unto  Him,  so  far  as  humanity  can  resemble  divinity. 
He  may  be  pure-hearted,  philanthropic,  sympathetic, 
and  kindly,  and  filled  with  a  yearning  desire  to  aid,  en- 
noble, and  uplift  his  brother-man.  He  may  be  honest 
and  true,  and  his  influence  may  beautify  and  enrich  the 
world  long  after  his  life  has  measured  its  brief  span. 

All  that  hath  been  majestical 

In  life  or  death,  since  time  began, 

Is  native  in  the  simple  heart  of  all, 
The  angel-heart  of  man. 

JAMES  RUSSELL   LOWELL. 

The  soul  of  man 

Createth  its  own  destiny  of  power ; 
And  as  the  trial  is  intenser  here, 
His  being  hath  a  nobler  strength  in  Heaven. 

NATHANIEL   P.   WILLIS. 

Manhood  at  last!  and  with  its  consciousness 

Are  strength  and  freedom ;  freedom  to  pursue 
The  purposes  of  hope  —  the  godlike  bliss 

Born  in  the  struggle  for  the  great  and  true ! 
And  every  energy  that  should  be  mine, 

This  day  I  dedicate  to  its  object, —  Life! 
So  help  me  Heaven,  that  never  I  resign 

The  duty  which  devotes  me  to  the  strife. 

WILLIAM   GILMORE   SIMMS. 

Man  is  the  jewel  of  God,  who  has  created  this 
material  world  to  keep  His  treasure  in.  —  THEODORE 
PARKER. 

[75] 


MARCH   TENTH. 

T  TPWARD!  O  Heart,  what  sweet  lessons  God  has 
**J  for  thee  to  learn  from  the  beautiful  things  with 
which  He  has  adorned  His  world!  Now,  while  March 
is  pushing  upward  and  onward  day  by  day,  why 
shouldst  not  thou  make  swift  progress  too?  Sing  as 
thou  goest ;  scatter  about  thee  brightness,  and  make  of 
thy  surroundings  a  halo  of  happiness. 

In  the  tassel-time  of  spring 
Love's  the  only  song  to  sing ; 

Ere  the  ranks  of  solid  shade 
Hide  the  bluebird's  flitting  wing, 

While  in  open  forest  glade 
No  mysterious  sound  or  thing 

Haunt  of  green  has  found  or  made, 
Love's  the  only  song  to  sing. 

Though  in  May  each  bush  be  dressed 
Like  a  bride,  and  every  nest 

Learn  Love's  joyous  repetend, 
Yet  the  half-told  tale  is  best 

At  the  budding  —  with  its  end 
Much  too  secret  to  be  guessed, 

And  its  fancies  that  attend 
April's  passion  unexpressed. 

Love  and  Nature  communing 
Give  us  Arcady.     Still  ring  — 

Vales  across  and  groves  among  — 
Wistful  memories,  echoing 

Pan's  far-off  and  fluty  song ; 
Poet!  nothing  harsher  sing ; 

Be,  like  Love  and  Nature,  young, 
In  the  tassel-time  of  spring. 

ROBERT  UNDERWOOD  JOHNSON. 
[76] 


MARCH   ELEVENTH. 

IT  is  faith  in  something  and  enthusiasm  for  some- 
thing that  makes  a  life  worth  looking  at.  —  OLIVER 

WENDELL   HOLMES. 

Have  faith  in  your  fellow-men.  Do  not  allow  your- 
self to  be  misanthropical ;  because  you  are  deceived  in 
one  man,  it  is  no  reason  why  all  others  should  be  false. 
Because  one  friend  disappoints  you,  it  is  not  a  foregone 
conclusion  that  every  friend  you  have  is  to  be  doubted. 
Keep  your  faith  in  God  and  man :  faith  in  God,  first  of 
all.  If  you  are  true  to  Him,  He  will  be  true  to  you ; 
let  your  faith  in  God  be  genuine,  unyielding,  and 
steadfast. 

I  will  not  doubt,  though  all  my  prayers  return, 
Unanswered,  from  the  still  white  realm  above. 
I  shall  believe  it  is  an  all-wise  love, 
Which  has  refused  these  things  for  which  I  yearn. 

ELLA  WHEELER. 

And  Faith's  banner,  pure  white,  unfold  to  the  breeze, 

For  she  marches  beside  us  at  night ; 
She  leads  through  the  desert  our  faltering  feet, 
And  sings  in  the  darkness  her  litanies  sweet, 

Of  deliverance,  triumph,  and  sight. 

MRS.    HERRICK  JOHNSON. 

O  for  that  faith  whose  voice  can  still 

The  doubts  that  vex  the  soul, 
And  seek  to  know  no  other  will 

But  God's  supreme  control. 

EMILY  P.    WILLIAMS. 

Faith  is  the  anchor,  to  which  if  a  soul  is  fastened,  it 
shall  not  sink  no  matter  how  rough  is  life's  sea. 
[77] 


MARCH   TWELFTH. 

BURY  all  ill-feelings,  all  errors,  and  wrong-doings 
beneath   the  winter  of  the  past.      Start  afresh, 
forget  and  forgive.     Let  only  the  memory  of  what  is 
pure  and  beautiful  remain. 

Let  us  forget 

The  memories  that  bind  us  fast 
To  our  mistakes,  outgrown  and  past. 
The  trust  betrayed,  the  tarnished  name, 
The  look  of  scorn,  the  blush  of  shame, 

Let  us  forget. 

Let  us  forget 

That  once  we  strove  for  selfish  gain, 
Regardless  of  another's  pain. 
The  vain  remorse,  the  sense  of  loss, 
The  burden  of  our  self-made  cross, 

Let  us  forget. 

Let  us  forget 

The  sighs,  the  stings,  the  anguished  tears 
That  marked  the  paths  of  bygone  years. 
The  bitter  cup,  the  deep  despair, 
The  one  dark  hour  which  none  might  share 

Let  us  forget. 

Let  us  forget 

All  but  the  love,  the  grace,  the  light 
That  bore  us  to  our  present  height, 
And  haunting  ghosts  of  grief  and  care, 
The  guise  of  angel  hosts  shall  wear. 

Let  us  forget. 

IDA  WORDEN   WHEELER. 

Remember  only  the  best  things. 

[78] 


MARCH   THIRTEENTH. 

SO  this  dreamy  life  is  passing  —  and  we  move  amidst 
its  maze, 
And  we  grope  along  together,  half  in  darkness,  half 

in  light ; 
And  our  hearts  are  often  burdened  with  the  mysteries 

of  our  ways, 

Which  are  never  all  in  shadow,  and  are  never  wholly 
bright. 

ABRAM   T.   RYAN. 


Our  lives  are  shrouded  in  mystery ;  we  cannot  see  a 
step  before  us.  In  front  of  us  stretches  the  dim  un- 
known, from  which  God  shall  unfold  our  future  life. 
We  walk  in  a  tangled  path  of  shade  and  sun ;  and  yet 
why  should  we  fret  ourselves  because  we  cannot  see 
the  workings  of  our  Father's  plans,  or  because  we  'can- 
not know  why  He  has  allowed  us  to  have  darkness  as 
well  as  light  ?  Let  us  not  dream  away  our  chances,  but 
let  us  be  ever  watchful  for  the  beauty  within  as  well  as 
without,  and  allow  nothing  to  pass  us  by,  which  will 
serve  to  awaken  and  bring  to  light  hidden  powers 
which  God  has  given  into  our  keeping. 


Fair  are  the  flowers  and  the  children,  but  their  subtle 
suggestion  is  fairer ; 

Rare  is  the  rose-burst  of  dawn,  but  the  secret  that 
clasps  it  is  rarer ; 

Sweet  the  exultance  of  song,  but  the  strain  that  precedes 
it  is  sweeter ; 

And  never  was  poem  yet  writ,  but  the  meaning  out- 
mastered  the  metre. 

RICHARD   REALF. 
t79] 


MARCH  FOURTEENTH. 

'""T'HERE  is  no  time  like  the  present  in  which  to  obey. 
J-  God  does  not  countenance  delays.  How  many 
sweet  little  birds  of  opportunity  have  sung  wooing 
songs  into  our  ears,  and  yet  we  have  turned  persistently 
away,  and  God  has  taken  our  chances  and  given  them 
to  another.  Don't  you  believe  this?  Then  why  do 
you  sometimes  say,  "  I  could  have  done  so  much  better 
had  I  tried,  but  it  is  too  late  now.  and  some  one  else 
has  the  praise  while  I  have  only  the  regret "  ?  Your 
opportunity  has  been  transplanted  in  another  garden, 
and  lo,  it  has  blossomed  and  borne  fruit ! 

Said  one  unto  himself :  "  I  would 

That  I  might  wield  some  power  for  good ; 

That  I  some  wondrous  tongue  could  learn 

To  speak  the  thoughts  and  words  that  burn ; 

That  I  could  marvellous  colors  mix, 

Wherewith  on  sacred  walls  to  fix 

The  glimpse  of  Heaven,  the  holy  dream, 

That  should  from  sin  men's  thoughts  redeem ; 

And,  oh,  that  some  rare  gem  were  mine 

Whereon  to  carve  the  face  divine ! " 

Another  took  the  self-same  words 

We  use  each  day,  — 
The  words  wherein  we  chide  or  bless, 

We  curse  or  pray,  — 
And  with  them  sang  a  song,  that  through 

The  wide  world  rings, 
And  slumbering  souls  that  hear  it  wake 

To  nobler  things. 

For  those  who  long  God's  work  to  do, 
Ways  are  not  scarce  nor  chances  few. 

VIRGINIA  B.  HARRISON. 
[80] 


MARCH  FIFTEENTH. 

I  WILL  pray  the   Father,  and   He   shall   give   you 
another  Comforter,  that   He   may  abide  with  you 
forever;   even  the  Spirit  of  truth.  —  JOHN  14:  16,  17. 

Truth  be  your  guide  at  all  times ! 

What  a  man  sees  only  in  his  best  moments  as  truth, 
is  truth  in  all  moments.  — JOSEPH  COOK. 

Truth  is  the  apostle  before  whom  every  cowardly 
Felix  trembles.  —  WENDELL  PHILLIPS. 

When  all  is  lost,  one  refuge  yet  remains, 
One  sacred  solace,  after  all  our  pains : 
Go  lay  thy  head  and  weep  thy  tears,  O  youth! 
Upon  the  dear  immortal  breast  of  Truth. 

J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE. 

The  grave's  dark  portal 

Soon  shuts  this  world  of  shadows  from  the  view ; 
Then  shall  we  grasp  realities  immortal 
If  to  the  truth  within  us  we  are  true. 

EMMA  C.  EMBURY. 

Keep  bright  the  jewel  that  lies  hidden  in  thy  breast ; 
polish  it,  and  let  it  be  clean  enough  to  reflect  in  it  the 
light  of  Heaven.  Truth  is  a  God-given  gem,  therefore 
dare  not  to  dim  its  lustre  with  falsity,  but  let  each  day 
find  it  shining  more  and  more  brightly.  Seek  the 
truth  in  others  ;  associate  only  with  those  who  are  the 
lovers  of  truth ;  then  shalt  thou  reflect  added  beams, 
and  the  jewel  within  thee  shall  glow  with  new  radiance. 
Take  for  thy  guide  He  who  is  Himself  the  divine  Truth, 
and  He  shall  teach  thee  how  to  walk  in  the  Spirit  of 
truth. 
A  6  [81] 


MARCH  SIXTEENTH. 

FOR  ye  are  the  temple  of  the  living  God.  —  2  CORIN- 
THIANS 6:  1 6. 

March  is  a  good  time  to  build.  The  birds  are  busy 
making  their  little  nests  where  they  can  have  safe 
shelter  from  wind  and  storm ;  new  houses  are  spring- 
ing up  around  us,  wherein  dear  ones  are  to  be  gathered 
and  surrounded  by  the  loving  influence  of  home.  But 
there  are  other  temples  being  builded  which  are  grow- 
ing steadily  and  silently  day  by  day,  —  they  are  your 
temples  and  mine.  Without  hammer  and  nails,  without 
mortar  and  bricks,  without  so  much  as  a  sound  to  tell 
the  story,  up  and  up  they  go,  rising  out  of  self,  being 
established  for  Eternity.  Oh,  let  us  build  them  well, 
that  they  may  be  fit  abodes  for  the  "  living  God  " ! 

Bring  woman's  work,  bring  manhood's  strength, 

Bring  childhood's  helping  hand, 
Build  well  and  wisely,  that  your  work 

To  coming  years  may  stand. 
Your  Lord,  —  He  gave  His  all  for  you, 

Give  back  your  very  best ; 
Your  best  is  all  too  poor  to  give 

To  Him,  the  Ever-blest. 

It  may  be  through  your  temple  fair 

The  Lord  shall  walk  some  day ; 
It  may  be  His  Shechinah  light 

Shall  rest  with  you  alway ; 
And  prayers  accepted  rise  to  Him, 

And  blessings  freely  fall, 
While  each  to  each,  across  the  fane, 

To  holy  watchers  call. 

ELLEN   MURRAY. 
[82] 


MARCH  SEVENTEENTH. 

THERE  are  some  hearts  like  wells,  green-mossed 
and  deep 

As  ever  Summer  saw ; 

And  cool  their  water  is,  yea,  cool  and  sweet ;  — 
But  you  must  come  to  draw. 

CAROLINE    S.  SPENCER. 

How  the  sympathy  and  kindliness  of  some  hearts 
cheer  and  comfort  us!  Whenever  we  are  near  them 
we  seem  to  be  strengthened  and  refreshed,  —  I  think 
they  must  live  very  close  to  Heaven ;  they  seem  in 
touch  with  the  divine  life,  and  there  is  a  beauty  and 
harmony  and  peace  about  them  that  makes  their 
influence  very  sweet  and  restful.  Why  is  it  that  they 
have  the  happy  faculty  of  carrying  sunshine  wherever 
they  go?  I  think  it  is  because  they  have  gathered  the 
blessed  teachings  of  Nature  and  God,  and  filled  their 
spirit's  cup  to  the  overflowing.  "Go  thou,  and  do  like- 
wise." 

What  the  mind  guesses, 

Day  after  day, 
Through  dim  recesses 

Groping  its  way, 
What  the  moon  answers 

In  silver  speech, 
What  of  joy  reaches  thee, 
What  thy  pain  teaches  thee, 

That  do  thou  teach. 

Let  thine  inspiration, 

Thy  wisdom,  be 
What  all  God's  Creation 

Calleth  to  thee. 

DANSKE  DANDRIDGE. 
[83] 


MARCH  EIGHTEENTH. 

AFTER  all,  it  is  the  divinity  within  that  makes  the 
divinity  without.  —  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

If  you  carry  a  great  deal  of  soul-beauty  within  you, 
it  is  bound  to  shine  through  somewhere.  It  will  either 
break  through  your  eyes  in  kindly  gleams,  through 
your  voice  in  cheery  words,  or  through  your  heart  in 
loving  deeds ;  it  must  have  an  outlet.  Human  sun- 
light is  too  bright  to  be  hidden  away ;  God  made  it  to 
shine,  and  if  you  have  any  within  you,  it  will  come 
to  the  surface  and  illumine  your  whole  nature. 

Send  out  the  sunlight,  the  sunlight  of  cheer, 
Shine  on  earth's  sadness  till  ills  disappear  — 
Souls  are  in  waiting  this  message  to  hear. 

Send  out  the  sunlight  that  speaks  in  a  smile, 
Often  it  shortens  the  long,  weary  mile  ; 
Often  the  burden  seems  light  for  a  while. 

Send  out  the  sunlight  —  the  Spirit's  real  gold! 
Give  it  out  freely  —  this  gift  that's  unsold ; 
Shower  it  down,  on  the  young  and  the  old  .' 

Send  out  the  sunlight,  you  have  it  in  you  ! 
Clouds  may  obscure  it  just  now  from  your  view ; 
Pray  for  its  presence!    Your  prayer  will  come  true. 

ELLEN   DARE. 

Beauty  is  but  the  sensible  image  of  the  Infinite. — 
Like  truth  and  justice  it  lives  within  us ;  like  virtue 
and  the  moral  law  it  is  a  companion  of  the  soul.  —  BAN- 
CROFT. 

[84] 


MARCH  NINETEENTH. 

THERE   is   no  brotherhood  of   man   without  the 
Fatherhood  of  God.  —  H.  M.  FIELD. 

Whoever  in  prayer  can  say  "  Our  Father "  acknowl- 
edges and  should  feel  the  brotherhood  of  the  whole 
race  of  mankind.  —  TRYON  EDWARDS. 

How  closely  are  they  akin,  —  the  brotherhood  of 
man,  and  the  Fatherhood  of  God!  If  our  hearts  are 
filled  with  love  to  God,  we  cannot  help  having  more 
love  for  all  mankind ;  we  feel  that  we  share  one  com- 
mon destiny,  and  that  we  belong  to  one  common 
family,  whose  head  is  God,  the  Father  and  Maker  of 
us  all.  Oh,  that  our  hearts  may  be  quickened  and  that 
we  may  treat  all  mankind  as  brothers! 

If  'mid  the  restless  faiths  and  troublous  fears, 
Which  surge  like  billows  on  the  ocean's  breast, 
Our  race  could  find  one  rock  on  which  to  rest ; 

One  central  truth  which  in  the  passing  years 

Remains  unmoved  alike  'mid  smiles  and  tears, 
What  blessed  peace  'twould  bring  to  human  hearts 
In  home,  and  in  the  place  of  toil,  in  marts 

Of  trade,  and  where  each  age  its  temples  rears. 

Oh,  yes,  one  truth,  if  only  deep,  profound, 

And  all  embracive  in  supernal  good, 

Would  calm  all  souls.     That  truth  is  Fatherhood! 
Then  make  it  known  wherever  man  is  found  ; 

Say,  say  the  reigning  God  all  Father  is, 

And  more  than  full  of  helpful  sympathies. 
With  Father,  God,  we  need  not  fear  the  rest, 
But  trust  the  all  to  His  most  kind  behest. 

H.  G.  MC ARTHUR. 
[85] 


MARCH   TWENTIETH. 

NOTHING  will  do  us  more  good  than  to  spend  a 
little  season  with  thought.  Let  us  get  away  from 
the  world  for  a  while ;  let  us  enter  into  our  hearts  and 
close  the  doors,  shutting  out  all  intruders.  The  year 
is  young  yet ;  we  have  not  gone  far  in  our  twelve- 
month journey,  and  spring  is  just  beginning.  Let  us 
unfold  our  best  natures ;  let  us  not  only  think,  but  act. 
Oh,  then  shall  our  thoughts  be  the  unfledged  birds  of 
our  soul,  that  shall  take  wing,  and  fly  upward,  and  sing 
as  they  go.  May  God  be  with  you  to-day,  and  give 
you  pure  and  beautiful  thoughts  whose  music  shall 
nevermore  be  silent! 

Like  pearls  that  lie  hid  'neath  the  ocean's  broad  breast, 

Where  its  waters  unceasingly  roll, 
Are  our  beautiful  thoughts  —  our  sweet  unexpressed, 

That  are  lost  in  the  depth  of  the  soul. 

w.  F.  FOX. 

The  burning  thunderbolt  of  human  Thought 
Sends  the  living  light  of  Truth  abroad, 
And  dashes  down  the  towers  of  Force  and  Fraud, 

And  awes  the  trembling  world  like  oracle  of  God! 

SARAH  JOSEPHA  HALE. 

Is  there  a  sweeter  thing  on  earth 
Than  pleasant  thoughts,  I  wonder, 

Or  a  happier  man  than  he 
Who  has  the  greatest  number? 

GEORGE   HINES   GORMAN. 

The  greatest  events  of  the  age  are  its  best  thoughts. 
It  is  the  nature  of  thought  to  find  its  way  into  action. 

— C.    N.    BOVEE. 

[86] 


A 


MARCH   TWENTY-FIRST. 

SPRING  goes  singing  through  its  reedy  grass  ; 
The  lark  sings  o'er  my  head. 

WILLIAM   W.    STORY. 


Oh,  tell  it  again,  the  sweet  old  story, 

The  oft-told  story  of  dawning  Spring, 
When  cometh  the  first  real  hint  of  glory  — 

The  first  glad  day  when  the  year  takes  wing ; 
The  pulse  of  Nature  is  quicker  thrilling, 

The  lark  is  singing ;  the  grasses  sprout ; 
And  the  maple-trees  their  sweets  are  spilling, 

And  eager  bees  from  the  hives  fly  out ; 
The  wayside  brook  that  was  frozen  over 

Begins  its  longings  to  wander  again, 
And  Hope  is  ever  a  gay  young  rover, 

Who  flits  about  in  the  hearts  of  men  — 
There's  a  fresh  green  leaf,  springing  now  and  then, 
Where  she  drops  her  seed  in  the  hearts  of  men. 

I.  s.  T. 

And  while  Hope's  leaves  are  pushing  outward  into 
light  and  gladness,  and  while  all  Nature  is  doing  its 
best,  let  us  with  renewed  strength  and  vigor  begin  to 
grow  better,  and  to  take  on  fresh  life  and  color.  The 
smallest  thing  that  God  has  made  has  a  mission,  and 
why  not  we  ? 

The  cowslip  startles  in  meadows  green, 
The  buttercup  catches  the  sun  in  its  chalice, 

And  there's  never  a  leaf  or  a  blade  too  mean 
To  be  some  happy  creature's  palace. 

JAMES   RUSSELL   LOWELL. 
[87] 


MARCH   TWENTY-SECOND. 

ON  either  hand  lies  the  proof  of  the  living  God. 
We  cannot  look  about  us  but  we  are  reminded  of 
Him,  and  of  His  love  and  care  for  us.  His  voice 
speaks  in  the  winds  that  blow,  and  His  beauty  is  re- 
flected in  the  sun  by  day,  as  well  as  the  moon  and  stars 
by  night.  His  majesty  still  moves  on  as  the  seasons 
dawn  and  fade  ;  He  rests  not,  nor  wearies  not ;  He  is 
"the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever."  Let  us 
honor  and  obey  Him,  and  let  us  make  our  hearts  accept- 
able unto  Him. 

The  hand  of  God 

Has  written  legibly  that  man  may  know 
The  glory  of  the  Maker. 

HENRY  WARE,  JR. 

For  God  is  God:  no  finite  thought 

Can  touch  the  utmost  starry  rim 
Of  that  great  purpose  planned  and  wrought 

In  days  that  were  alone  with  Him. 
Cycles  that  His  vast  presence  filled, 

Ere  breath  or  pulse  or  motion  stirred 
The  awful  waiting  silence,  thrilled 

With  dread  expectance  of  The  Word ! 

EMMA  ALICE  BROWNE. 

My  heart  is  awed  within  me,  when  I  think 
Of  the  great  miracle  that  still  goes  on 
In  silence  round  me  —  the  perpetual  work 
Of  Thy  creation,  finished,  yet  renewed 
Forever.     Written  on  Thy  works  I  read 
The  lesson  of  Thy  own  eternity. 

WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 
[88] 


MARCH  TWENTY-THIRD. 

LET  us  live  to-day  as  if  it  were  our  only  day. 
What  if,  for  us  —  you  and  me  —  there  should  never 
be  a  to-morrow?  What  if  our  life  should  go  out  with 
the  sunset,  or  slip  away  at  the  quiet  midnight  hour,  or 
in  the  hush  of  the  still  gray  dawn?  Let  us,  then,  give 
some  of  our  sweetest  and  best  thoughts  to  immortal 
things,  and  do  or  say  nothing  to-day  that  shall  be 
remembered  against  us  with  sorrow  and  regret. 

Not  merely  what  we  are, 
But  what  we  were  and  what  we  are  to  be, 
Make  up  our  life  —  the  far  days  each  a  star, 

The  near  days  nebulae. 

Ay,  what  were  all  days  worth, 
Were  there  no  looking  backward  or  before  — 
If  every  human  life  that  drops  to  earth 

Were  lost  forevermore? 

But  each  day  is  a  link 
Of  days  that  pass  and  never  pass  away ; 
For  memory  and  hope  —  to  live,  to  think  — 

Each  is  our  only  day. 

COAXES   KINNEY. 

We  should  waste  no  moments  in  weak  regret 

If  the  day  were  but  one ; 
If  what  we  remembered  and  what  we  forget 

Went  out  with  the  sun ; 
We  should  be  from  our  clamorous  selves  set  free 

To  work  or  to  play, 
To  be  what  the  Father  would  have  us  be 

If  we  had  but  a  day. 

MARY  L.  DICKINSON. 
[89] 


MARCH   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

THE  disposition  to  give  a  cup  of  cold  water  to  a 
disciple,  is  a  far  nobler  property  than  the  finest 
intellect.  —  HOWELLS. 

If  you  were  to  toil  up  a  weary  hill 

Bearing  a  load  beyond  your  strength  to  bear, 
Straining  each  nerve  untiringly,  and  still 

Stumbling  and  losing  foothold  here  and  there, 
And  each  one  passing  by  would  do  so  much 

As  give  one  upward  lift  and  go  their  way, 
Would  not  the  slight  reiterated  touch 

Of  help  and  kindness  lighten  all  the  day? 

There  is  no  little  and  there  is  no  much  ; 

We  weigh  and  measure  and  define  in  vain. 
A  look,  a  word,  a  light  responsive  touch, 

Can  be  the  ministers  of  joy  to  pain. 
A  man  can  die  of  hunger  walled  in  gold, 

A  crumb  may  quicken  hope  to  stronger  breath, 
And  every  day  we  give  or  we  withhold 

Some  little  thing  which  tells  for  life  or  death. 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

A  little  kindness  is  never  forgotten  by  the  one  who 
receives  it.  It  sometimes  brightens  a  whole  day ;  it 
goes  far  often  towards  lifting  a  heavy  burden,  and  com- 
forts an  aching  heart,  and  makes  it  forget  for  a  time  its 
misery.  You  may  not  be  able  to  do  great  things,  but 
surely  you  can  be  kind,  and  sympathetic,  and  helpful. 
If  God  has  blessed  you,  be  a  blessing  to  others! 

It  is  good  for  us  to  think  that  no  grace  or  blessing  is 
truly  ours  till  we  are  aware  that  God  has  blessed  some 
one  else  with  it  through  us.  —  PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 
[90] 


MARCH   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

WHAT  joy  lies  around  us!  Let  us  drink  it  in  to- 
day, thankfully,  appreciatively.  God  is  pouring 
out  blessings  upon  us  in  abundant  measure.  Ah,  have 
we  not  time  to  give  Him  praise?  Let  us  stop  in  the 
midst  of  our  daily  duties,  as  we  pass  to  and  fro  doing 
the  innumerable  things  that  need  to  be  done ;  aye,  let 
us  stop  long  enough  to  be  glad.  Or,  let  us  with  lifted 
hearts  go  on  with  our  task,  and  go  on  being  glad  as 
well.  Our  gratitude  is  what  He  wants ;  let  us  sing, 
smile,  speak,  and  act  it  out :  a  joyful  heart  makes  a 
cheerful  countenance  and  a  light  step.  Do  not  hide 
away  your  gladness  ;  let  others  share  it. 

"Who  giveth  us  richly  all  things  to  enjoy." 

Not  by  my  need  the  measures  from  His  store, 
The  daily  gifts  my  daily  prayers  implore ; 
His  full  supply  no  narrow  limit  knows, 
For  my  delight  His  bounty  overflows. 

'Twere  much  that  He  had  taught  my  hand  to  bring 
Sweet  sounds  from  echoing  reed  and  quivering  string 
So  my  weak  songs  of  praise  might  swifter  rise, 
To  mingle  with  the  heavenly  harmonies. 

But  lo !  such  strains  as  mock  my  highest  skill, 
For  my  delight  a  bird's  soft  bosom  fill ; 
Soar  through  my  skies,  on  dusky  wings  upborne, 
And  wake  my  soul  to  rapture  with  the  morn! 

O  Love  Divine,  that  folds  my  being  round! 
O  deeps  of  tenderness  I  cannot  sound! 
That  He  whose  thoughts  eternities  employ, 
Should  touch  creation's  chords  to  give  me  joy ! 

EMILY   HUNTINGTON   MILLER. 
[91] 


MARCH  TWENTY-SIXTH. 

YOU  make  a  hard  life  for  yourself  when  you  allow 
your  tongue  to  get  the  better  of  you.  Not  only 
this,  but  you  make  it  unpleasant  for  others  as  well. 
He  who  learns  to  curb  his  spirit,  and  to  keep  back  the 
quick  words  that  wound  and  hurt  others,  has  gained 
a  noble  victory,  —  the  victory  over  Self.  Learn  for- 
bearance ;  it  will  help  you  all  through  the  journey  of 
life.  Avoid  contentions,  they  only  make  hard  feelings ; 
sharp  words  spoken  in  the  morning  will  mar  the  happi- 
ness of  a  whole  day;  don't  say  them,  —  they  always 
leave  a  regret  behind  them.  It  is  noble  to  keep  silent 
when  the  utterance  of  words  would  create  a  discord. 
To  be  monarch  of  Self  is  far  more  desirable  than  to 
rule  a  kingdom.  It  is  the  gentle  word  that  wins  ;  it  is 
the  "soft  answer"  that  "turneth  away  wrath." 

Speak  gently!     Tis  a  little  thing 
Dropp'd  in  the  heart's  deep  well ; 

The  good,  the  joy  which  it  may  bring 
Eternity  shall  tell. 

DAVID  BATES. 

Kind  words  can  never  die, 

Cherished  and  blest ; 
God  knows  how  deep  they  lie, 

Lodged  in  the  breast. 

ABBY  HUTCHINSON. 

May  you  still  be  given 

Strength  for  each  day  in  house  and  home 

To  practise  forbearance  sweetly, 
To  scatter  kind  words  and  loving  deeds, 

Trusting  in  God  completely. 

ANONYMOUS. 
[92] 


MARCH  TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

WHAT  a  vast  difference  there  is  in  faces!  Watch 
the  various  expressions  in  a  crowd  as  you  pass 
to  and  fro,  and  you  can  read  a  great  many  unwritten 
histories  there.  Those  who  carry  heavy  burdens  look 
tired  and  old;  Youth  has  been  banished  before  his 
time,  and  Care  has  set  his  seal  on  cheek,  and  brow,  and 
mouth.  Even  the  eyes  have  a  care-worn  look,  and 
your  heart  aches  that  such  things  must  be.  O  weighed- 
down  humanity!  It  is  the  lot  of  all  to  bear  burdens, 
but  why  can  we  not  learn  to  laugh  care  away,  and  go 
on  our  way  singing,  instead  of  sighing?  May  this  be 
your  resolve,  —  to  give  into  God's  keeping  the  burdens 
that  are  too  heavy  for  you,  and  not  allow  yourself  to 
be  troubled  or  cast  down. 

Now  our  wants  and  burdens  leaving 
To  His  care,  who  cares  for  all, 

Cease  we  fearing,  cease  we  grieving, 
At  His  touch  our  burdens  fall. 

SAMUEL  LONGFELLOW. 

Men  do  not  avail  themselves  of  the  riches  of  God's 
grace.  They  love  to  nurse  their  cares,  and  seem  as 
uneasy  without  some  fret  as  an  old  friar  would  be  with- 
out his  hair  girdle.  They  are  commanded  to  cast  their 
cares  on  the  Lord;  but  even  when  they  attempt  it, 
they  do  not  fail  to  catch  them  up  again,  and  think  it 
meritorious  to  walk  burdened.  —  H.  w.  BEECHER. 

We  tell  Thee  of  our  care, 
Of  the  sore  burden,  pressing  day  by  day, 
And  in  the  light  and  pity  of  Thy  face, 

The  burden  melts  away. 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 
[93] 


MARCH  TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

f~pHE  heart  that  is  warmed  by  the  cheery  fire  of  love 
•*-  is  never  cold  or  indifferent.  The  chill  winds  of 
March  cannot  rob  it  of  its  sunny  glow,  for  the  light 
that  comes  from  within  burns  steadily  on  forever.  Love 
your  fellow-men ;  do  not  simply  have  a  passing  interest 
in  them,  but  cultivate  a  genuine  affection  for  them. 
Commence  loving  them  now,  —  it  will  be  a  beginning 
for  you ;  this  life  is  only  a  preparation  for  the  life  to 
come.  You  are  to  go  on  loving  through  all  Eternity! 

Oh,  the  riches  love  doth  inherit! 

Oh,  the  alchemy  which  doth  change 
Dross  of  body  and  dregs  of  spirit 

Into  sanctities  rare  and  strange! 

RICHARD   REALF. 

There's  a  spirit  abroad  through  the  waking  earth, 

A  wondrous  living  power, 
And  the  sons  of  men  confess  its  worth 

In  every  trying  hour. 
'Tis  a  joyful  thought,  a  cheering  word, 

A  song  with  a  glad  refrain, 
A  message  in  every  nation  heard 

To  bless  mankind  again. 

Spirit  of  love !     O  sweetly  come, 

Like  the  breath  of  summer  flowers, 
And  breathe  upon  each  heart  and  home 

In  this  sinful  world  of  ours  ; 
Convince,  control,  and  permeate 

With  wisdom  from  above  ; 
Make  all  the  earth  one  happy  state, 

One  paradise  of  love. 

WILLIAM   HOYLE. 
[94] 


o 


MARCH  TWENTY-NINTH. 

IH,  there  is  need  that  on  men's  hearts  should  fall 
A  spirit  that  can  sympathize  with  all ! 

PHCEBE   GARY. 

The  lightest  care  while  yet  concealed, 
Lies  like  a  mountain  on  the  breast ; 

The  heaviest  grief,  when  once  revealed, 
Is  lulled  by  sympathy  to  rest. 

Relieve  a  bursting  heart, 
And  pour  into  some  loving  ear 
Each  bitter  thought,  each  chilling  fear : 

How  soon  will  all  depart! 
And  words  of  love  like  healing  balm, 
Will  gently  soothe  and  sweetly  calm, 
Till  reason's  almost  fading  ray 
Resumes  its  firm  and  wonted  sway, 
And  though  thy  burden  be  not  less, 
Thou  wilt  not  still  be  comfortless. 

MARION   H.    RAND. 

Be  not  chary  of  thy  sympathy  while  so  many  hearts 
are  hungering  for  it.  Let  it  be  fresh  as  the  morning 
dew,  and  ever  ready  to  be  bestowed  on  those  around 
thee.  Oh,  thou  knowest  not  how  many  there  are 
about  thee  who  would  be  glad  for  a  sympathetic  look 
of  thine  that  was  genuine  and  sincere.  Look  around 
thee!  Is  there  no  one  who  needs  to  be  comforted  to- 
day? Perhaps  it  is  one  of  thine  own  household  who 
needs  thy  tenderest  sympathy,  and  thou  hast  been  too 
blind  and  selfish  to  be  aware  of  it.  To-morrow  may 
give  thee  another  opportunity,  —  do  not  neglect  it ;  if 
thou  art  poor  in  all  else,  be  rich  in  sympathy,  —  thou 
canst  always  have  plenty  of  that,  and  to  spare. 
[95] 


MARCH   THIRTIETH. 

*"  I  X)  every  one  God  has  given  a  talent.  Have  you 
-•-  never  found  out  what  yours  is?  Ask  God  to 
show  you.  Have  you  been  saying  all  these  years  you 
had  no  talent  ?  Ah,  that  is  not  right ;  God  would  not 
give  to  others  and  overlook  you.  The  trouble  is,  you 
have  kept  yours  hidden  away,  while  your  friend,  or 
your  neighbor,  has  been  making  use  of  his  or  hers. 
Because  your  voice  was  not  tuned  to  song,  or  because 
you  have  not  an  artist's  eye  for  form  and  color,  do  not 
say  you  have  no  talent.  If  you  have  the  gift  of  mak- 
ing home  happy  or  of  adding  to  the  pleasure  of  those 
around  you,  have  you  no  talent?  Is  it  possible  you 
can  so  underrate  His  gifts  ?  Your  talent  was  born  with 
you,  —  an  inheritance  from  God.  If  you  have  only 
been  sparingly  endowed,  you  will  have  little  to  account 
for ;  but  if  liberally,  how  great  will  be  your  responsi- 
bility, "  for  to  whom  much  is  given,  much  is  required." 

'Tis  wisdom's  law,  the  perfect  code, 

By  love  inspired, 
Of  him  on  whom  much  is  bestowed 

Is  much  required ; 
The  tuneful  throat  is  bid  to  sing ; 
The  oak  must  reign  the  forest's  king ; 
The  rushing  stream  the  wheel  must  move ; 
The  tempered  steel  its  strength  must  prove ; 
'Tis  given  with  the  eagle's  eyes 
To  face  the  mid-day  skies.  ANONYMOUS. 

Our  field  is  the  world,  and  our  work  is  before  us, 
To  each  is  appointed  a  message  to  bear ; 

At  home  or  abroad,  in  cottage  or  palace, 
Wherever  directed,  our  mission  is  there. 

FANNY  J.    CROSBY. 
[96] 


MARCH   THIRTY-FIRST. 

LET  the  month  go  out  in  tranquillity!  If  all  the 
winds  and  gusts  of  these  blustering  days  are  over, 
why  should  we  not  look  for  a  succeeding  calm  ?  May  it 
not  only  bring  peace  to  the  elements,  but  to  your  heart 
and  mine  as  well.  That  we  may  bear  malice  towards 
no  one,  that  we  may  cherish  no  anger,  feel  no  envy, 
nor  harbor  any  resentment,  —  this  is  my  earnest  prayer 
to-day.  If  our  heart-gusts  have  ceased  blowing,  then 
shall  follow  the  inner  calm  too  deep  to  be  measured. 

Heart-free  from  a  thought  of  malice, 

All  envy  behind  us  thrust, 
Oh,  may  we  with  tranquil  spirits 

Be  gentle,  and  pure,  and  just : 
With  ever  a  calm  of  manner, 

We'll  watch  life's  storms  sweep  by, 
Then,  earth  shall  look  up  and  marvel, 

And  smile  in  our  soul's  blue  sky! 

I.    S.    T. 

This  outward  calm  is  an  emblem 

Of  the  hope  and  joy  within, 
Of  a  soul  at  peace  with  its  Maker, 

Of  a  world  redeemed  from  sin. 

ANNIE   R.    FOLSOM 

So  in  the  morning  twilight  of  the  soul, 

Would  I  keep  silence,  O  my  God!  to  Thee, 
That  thus  some  starry  promise  may  unroll 

Its  beauty  and  its  brilliancy  for  me ; 
And  from  my  mind,  with  all  its  various  powers, 
Shall  rise  sweet  incense  as  the  breath  of  flowers, 
Till  God's  own  glory  gilds  the  glowing  hours  ! 

ANNA  LENTHAL   SMITH. 
A  7  [97] 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF   APRIL 


APRIL   FIRST. 

HEY  for  leaves  and  buds  and  flowers, 
Opening  fast  through  April  hours! 
All  along  the  wayside  places 
Pink  spring  beauties  lift  their  faces ; 
And  happy  children  soon  will  look 
For  violets  beside  the  brook. 
Hey  for  leaves  and  buds  and  flowers, 
Opening  fast  through  April  hours ! 

ANONYMOUS. 

This  is  our  day.  Look  how  the  world  brightens,  for 
it  is  now  the  beginning  of  a  happy  time  to  come !  The 
avenues  of  Time  stand  open,  and  we  look  backward 
over  the  long  line  of  Aprils  that  have  passed  away,  — 
yes,  they  are  all  filled  with  tender  memories.  Those 
were  bright,  happy  days,  but  ah !  are  they  so  sweet  as 
the  present  April  with  the  golden  promise  of  a  summer 
yet  to  come?  Dear  heart,  let  us  be  glad  to-day,  and 
let  us  look  trustingly  on  and  beyond  us,  knowing  that 
God  has  in  store  many  folded  buds  for  love  and  happi- 
ness that  shall  awaken  in  His  sunlight  and  bloom  for 
us. 

"The  days  of  April,"  they  are  fair,  so  fair, 
With  precious  promise  in  the  budding  flowers, 

Promise  of  days  all  radiant,  fresh,  and  rare, 
Mellowed  by  gentle  dews  and  fleeting  showers. 

ISABEL   GORDON. 
[98] 


ALICE    CART 

1820-1871 


APRIL   SECOND. 

GOD   is  waking  His   tiniest  messengers  to  praise 
Him,  and  to  carry  sweetness  into  all  the  world. 

It  is  very  strange  that  our  pulses  thrill 
At  the  sight  of  a  voiceless  thing, 

And  our  hearts  yearn  so  with  tenderness, 
In  the  beautiful  time  of  Spring. 

N.  P.  WILLIS. 

O  violets  hiding  in  the  green, 

O  violets  sweet  and  shy, 
You  have  the  sweetness  of  the  earth, 
The  beauty  of  the  sky! 
No  fairer  blossom  blows 
Till  Summer  brings  her  rose. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Violets,  —  with  all  their  sweetness  and  humility, — 
it  seems  to  me,  are  linked  with  more  tender  memories 
than  any  other  flower.  One  withered  violet  often 
speaks  volumes  ;  and  the  odor  of  these  little  blossoms 
will  awaken  thoughts  that  have  long  been  sleeping,  and 
recall  sorrows  and  joys  of  by-gone  days. 

O,  faint,  delicious,  springtime  violet! 

Thine  odor,  like  a  key, 
Turns  noiselessly  in  memory's  ward  to  let 

A  thought  of  sorrow  free. 

WILLIAM   W.  STORY. 

Its  grateful  influence  haunts  me  still ; 

Grant  me,  I  pray,  the  violet's  part ; 
To  catch  enough  of  joy  to  fill 

The  calyx  of  my  thirsty  heart. 

JANE   M.  READ. 
[99] 


APRIL  THIRD. 

SEE,  all  of  Nature's  children  are  growing  and  pro- 
gressing ;  for  April  days  are  thriving  days,  and 
new  beauties  are  opening  every  hour.  Each  blade  of 
grass  is  busy  doing  its  best.  What  tiny  things  help 
to  make  a  world,  don't  they  ?  If  you  are  only  an  atom 
in  the  great  mass  of  humanity  that  makes  the  immortal 
part  of  the  world,  you  are  never  lost  sight  of  or  for- 
gotten by  your  Creator.  He  has  given  you  this 
beautiful  growing  April  day,  and  surrounded  you  with 
examples  of  patience  and  progress.  Are  you  pushing 
out  into  the  sunlight  of  newer  hope  and  gladness,  and 
leaving  behind  your  dead  self  of  doubt  and  discontent  ? 

Awake  to  effort  while  the  day  is  shining, 
The  time  to  labor  will  not  always  last ; 

And  no  regret,  repentance,  nor  repining 
Can  bring  to  us  again  the  buried  past. 

SARAH    F.  BOLTON. 

Look  not  without  for  blame  or  praise, 

Look  upward  and  within  ; 
And  through  the  swift  revolving  days, 

With  each  thy  task  begin. 
And  lo!  as  grows  the  kingly  tree 

By  force  of  kingly  might, 
Thy  life  to  those  around  shall  be 

Majestic,  strong,  and  bright. 

ALICE  C.  JENNINGS. 

Robins  in  the  tree-tops, 

Blossoms  in  the  grass, 
Green  things  a-growing 

Everywhere  you  pass. 

T.  B.  ALDRICH. 


APRIL   FOURTH. 

KEEP  up  a  brave  spirit ;  things  are  never  quite  so 
bad  as  we  imagine  they  may  be.  God  always  lets 
in  the  sunshine  somewhere.  Hope  on  ;  no  matter  how 
dark  the  way  seems,  it  is  better  farther  on.  Do  not  be 
discouraged ;  if  business  is  dull,  if  troubles  overwhelm 
you,  if  you  have  losses  and  crosses,  or  if  you  are  de- 
ceived and  disappointed,  go  on  hoping  and  trusting; 
there  is  a  good  time  coming  for  you!  Take  hold  of 
the  every-day  duties,  and  if  they  are  not  to  your  taste, 
and  of  your  seeking,  honor  them,  anyway.  By  doing 
these  things  well,  you  shall  be  found  worthy  of  greater 
ones.  Work  and  hope ;  your  Better  Day  will  dawn. 

We  expect  a  bright  to-morrow ; 

All  will  be  well. 
Faith  can  sing,  through  days  of  sorrow, 

All,  all  is  well. 

MARY   B.    PETERS. 

O  wondrous  day  that's  coming, 

We  hail  thy  herald  beams ! 
Thy  rising  beauties  far  outshine 

Our  fancy's  fairest  dreams. 

MRS.    LANDON. 

O  day  long  looked  for,  oft  foretold, 

Best  theme  of  prayer  and  song, 
When  Truth  and  Right  shall  judgment  hold, 

In  triumph  over  Wrong! 
Young  lives  wear  out  'twixt  hope  and  doubt, 

Young  hearts  grow  cold  and  numb : 
But  God's  day  is  our  promised  day, 

And  that  is  sure  to  come. 

LEWIS  J.   BATES. 

[101] 


APRIL  FIFTH. 

HAIL,  sweet  April  morn!     I  hear  the  bells  ringing 
to  usher  thee  in,  for  surely  thou  art  to  be  a  glad 
day  for  somebody. 

They  are  tolling  in  the  tower 

For  another  day  begun, 
And  to  hail  the  rising  hour 

Of  a  brighter,  brighter  Sun! 

ARTHUR  CLEVELAND  COXE. 

This  is  a  glory  of  a  new  day ;  may  it  be  a  day  of 
peace  and  blessing  to  you!  Surely,  methinks,  some 
days  are  like  some  lives,  —  born  to  carry  joy  and  sun- 
shine. May  this  day  be  a  messenger  of  happiness  to 
your  heart,  and  may  you  go  through  the  world  dis- 
tributing happiness  to  others.  This  is  your  royal  birth- 
right, and  what  nobler  mission  could  you  have  than 
this  ?  Oh,  pure  heart-happiness  is  a  crown  of  glory  to 
its  possessor,  and  if  this  is  your  gift,  how  fortunate  you 
are !  Keep  looking  on  the  "  bright  side,"  and  gather 
all  the  gladness  you  can  find. 

So,  my  friends,  let's  choose  the  bright  side, 
Just  the  happy,  glorious  right  side, 
Which  will  give  us  health  and  spirits  just  so  long  as 

life  shall  last ; 

And  the  sorrows  that  roll  o'er  us 
Shall  not  always  go  before  us, 

If  we  keep  a  watch  for  blue  skies  and  will  hold  its  sun- 
shine fast. 

ANONYMOUS. 

I  wish  for  thee  not  only  a  happy  life,  but  a  blessed 
Eternity! 

[102] 


APRIL  SIXTH. 

CONSCIENCE  is  merely  our  own  judgment  of  the 
^— '  right  or  wrong  of  our  actions,  and  so  can  never  be 
a  safe  guide  unless  enlightened  by  the  word  of  God. 

—  TRYON    EDWARDS. 

A  disciplined  conscience  is  a  man's  best  friend.  It 
may  not  be  his  most  amiable,  but  it  is  his  most  faithful 
monitor.  —  AUSTIN  PHELPS. 

Dare  to  do  right !  dare  to  be  true  ! 
You  have  a  work  that  no  other  can  do ; 
Do  it  so  bravely,  so  kindly,  so  well, 
Angels  will  hasten  the  story  to  tell. 

Dare  to  do  right !  dare  to  be  true  ! 

Love  may  deny  you  its  sunshine  and  dew. 

Let  the  dew  fail,  for  then  showers  shall  be  given ; 

Dew  is  from  earth,  but  the  showers  are  from  Heaven. 

GEORGE  LANSING  TAYLOR. 

In  ourselves  is  hid 

The  holy  spirit-land, 
Where  Thought,  the  flaming  cherub,  stands 

With  its  relentless  brand ; 
We  feel  the  pang,  when  the  dread  sword 

Inscribes  the  hidden  sin, 
And  turneth  everywhere  to  guard 

The  paradise  within ! 

ELIZABETH   OAKES  SMITH. 

Keep  thy  conscience  clean ;  guard  it  well,  for  it  is  a 
hidden  treasure,  which,  if  exposed  too  much  to  the 
world,  will  become  tarnished  and  callous.  It  is  the 
pearl  which  God  hath  shrined  in  thy  breast ;  let  it  not 
lose  its  purity,  nor  its  tenderness. 


APRIL   SEVENTH. 


D( 


not  hurry, 
Do  not  worry, 
As  this  world  you  travel  through, 
No  regretting, 
Fuming,  fretting, 
Ever  can  advantage  you. 

Be  content  with  what  youVe  won, 
What  on  earth  you  leave  undone, 
There  are  plenty  left  to  do. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Look  at  the  records  of  great  men  who  have  passed 
away  from  this  earth  ;  you  wonder  how  we  could  afford 
to  give  them  up,  but  yet  the  world  goes  on  just  the 
same  without  them,  and  so  will  it  be  with  you.  If  you 
feel  that  you  are  of  the  utmost  importance,  just  remem- 
ber this.  Those  who  have  reached  the  pinnacle  of 
Fame,  —  men  of  deep,  thoughtful  minds;  heroes  in 
battle ;  great  inventors  and  scientists,  —  these  have 
finished  the  battle  of  life,  and  have  left  the  world  as 
busy  and  as  absorbed  as  ever.  Of  what  did  it  avail 
them  to  hurry  and  worry  so  ?  I  do  not  mean  that  it 
is  right  to  idle  away  your  time,  but  that  you  should  not 
employ  it  in  fuming  and  fretting  about  unnecessary 
things.  Do  not  put  off  the  things  that  make  for  your 
soul's  welfare! 

The  day  that  we  dream  of  comes  at  length, 
When  tired  of  every  mocking  quest, 

And  broken  in  spirit  and  shorn  of  strength 
We  drop,  indeed,  at  the  door  of  rest, 

And  wait  and  watch  as  the  day  wanes  on ; 

But  the  angels  we  meant  to  call,  are  gone! 

MARGARET  J.    PRESTON. 
[104] 


APRIL  EIGHTH. 

NO  stars  shine  brighter  than  the  kingly  man, 
Who  nobly  earns  whatever  crown  he  wears, 
Who  grandly  conquers,  or  as  grandly  dies ; 
And  the  white  banner  of  his  manhood  bears, 
Through  all  the  years  uplifted  to  the  skies. 

JULIA  C.   R.   DORR. 

God  bless  the  "  kingly  man  "  —  he  whose  manhood 
is  his  crown ;  he  who  is  a  nobleman  by  nature ;  he 
who  honors  God,  and  is  honored  by  Him.  In  resist- 
ing temptation  to  do  wrong,  in  overcoming  evil,  in 
doing  each  duty  earnestly, — ah,  therein  lies  his  title 
to  his  crown.  Life  is  worth  your  best  effort,  your 
noblest  endeavor ;  therefore  let  no  day  go  by  without 
taking  a  step  upward. 

No  man  is  coward  who  beholds  the  truth, 

Who  simply  guesses  what  is  God's  great  thought, 

Or  hears  His  awful  voice  in  thunder  blast. 

He  must  be  noble,  must  be  brave,  forsooth, 

Who  strives  for  prizes  which  His  hands  have  wrought, 

And  as  a  victor  sovereign  reigns  at  last. 

MARY  A.    RIPLEY. 

"Look  forward,  —  and   not   back!"      Each    lost  en- 
deavor 

May  be  a  step  upon  thy  chosen  path  : 
All  that  the  past  withheld,  in  larger  measure, 

Somewhere  in  willing  trust  the  future  hath. 
Near  and  more  near  the  Ideal  stoops  to  meet 
The  steadfast  coming  of  unfaltering  feet. 

FRANCES  LAUGHTON   MACE. 


APRIL   NINTH. 

IN  all  intercourse  no  armor  is  so  becoming  and  so 
protective  as  a  gentlemanly  demeanor,  and  when 
we  think  how  intimate,  diversified,  unavoidable,  indis- 
pensable, how  daily  and  hourly  are  our  relations  with 
our  fellow-men,  we  cannot  but  become  aware  how  much 
it  concerns  us,  for  our  pleasure  and  our  profit,  and  for 
a  deeper  satisfaction,  to  be  affable  and  gentlemanly, 
and  arm  ourselves  with  a  bearing  that  shall  be  the 
expression  of  self-respect,  purified  by  respect  for  others. 

—  GEORGE   HENRY   CALVERT. 

How  sweet  and  gracious,  even  in  common  speech, 
Is  that  fine  sense  which  men  call  Courtesy! 
Wholesome  as  air  and  genial  as  the  light, 
Welcome  in  every  clime  as  breath  of  flowers,  — 
It  transmutes  aliens  into  trusting  friends, 
And  gives  its  owner  passport  round  the  globe. 

JAMES   T.    FIELDS. 

—  Gentlemen  are  bound,  as  are  the  stars, 
To  stoop  not  after  rising. 

N.  P.  WILLIS. 

Be  courteous  to  all ;  it  is  ennobling  to  yourself  and 
others.  He  who  is  a  stranger  to  courtesy  and  gentle- 
ness is  inspired  with  a  longing  to  be  something  better 
than  he  is,  if  you  treat  him  with  deference  and  respect, 
no  matter  how  lowly  and  humble  may  be  his  station. 
It  costs  very  little  to  be  civil  and  polite,  and  in  no  way 
can  a  man  show  his  true  manhood  than  through  acts 
of  kindly  courtesy.  Pray  remember  this.  Cultivate 
a  spirit  of  though tfulness,  and  do  not  forget  how  much 
depends  upon  being  genuinely  polite ;  the  true  gentle- 
man is  always  thinking  of  others. 
[106] 


APRIL   TENTH. 

AND  have  we  not  all  our  ships  at  sea?  You  have 
yours,  and  I  have  mine ;  they  are  sailing,  sailing 
far  away,  and  we  are  waiting  to  hail  the  day  that  brings 
them  safely  back  again.  When  shall  they  come,  and 
how  freighted,  I  wonder?  with  love?  with  gladness? 
with  wealth,  or  health?  With  sweet  contentment,  or 
careless  pleasure  ?  with  pain,  or  sorrow,  or  vain  regrets  ? 
Our  Father  knows !  We  may  safely  trust  Him  to  guide 
and  speed  them  through  wind  and  storm.  Though 
heavy  laden  with  gay  good  wishes  when  first  we 
launched  them,  we  cannot  tell  if  He  shall  send  them 
again  to  greet  us,  still  buoyant.  That  yours  may  come 
with  flying  sails,  and  bring  you  peace  and  winsome 
joy,  —  this  is  my  dearest  wish  for  you  to-day! 

Whether  of  high  or  low  degree, 

All  men  and  women  have  ships  at  sea ; 

Some  are  speeding  over  the  main, 

And  will  never  return  again ; 

Some  that  have  sailed  the  world  around, 

With  precious  freight  are  homeward  bound ; 

Some  are  tossed  where  the  breakers  free 

Leap  over  the  wrecks  down  into  the  sea. 

G.    W.    BUNGAY. 

White  in  the  sunshine  her  sails  will  be  gleaming. 

See,  where  my  ship  comes  in ; 
At  mast-head  and  peak  her  colors  streaming, 

Proudly  she's  sailing  in  ; 

Love,  hope,  and  joy  on  her  decks  are  cheering, 
Music  will  welcome  her  glad  appearing, 
And  my  heart  will  sing  at  her  stately  nearing, 

When  my  ship  comes  in. 

ROBERT  J.    BURDETTE. 
[107] 


APRIL  ELEVENTH. 

DO  you  count  the  mercies?  Every  day  you  have 
them  showered  upon  you  from  God's  lavish  hand. 
Do  you  take  them  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  forget  to 
be  thankful  for  them?  Oh,  how  wrong  this  is!  God 
is  so  good  and  so  kind  to  remember  all  we  need,  and 
to  abundantly  supply  our  wants ;  then  how  sadly  un- 
grateful we  are  if  we  fail  to  appreciate  our  blessings. 
Every  ill  we  are  spared,  every  danger  from  which  we 
are  protected,  every  sorrow  which  passes  us  by,  —  are 
not  these  mercies  ?  It  is  the  common  every-day  bene- 
fits, that  are  showered  upon  us  from  sun  to  sun,  that 
we  are  not  grateful  enough  for.  Let  us  begin  anew ; 
let  us  teach  our  hearts  to  praise  God,  "who  daily 
loadeth  us  with  benefits." 

Dear  Lord,  are  we  ever  so  thankful, 

As  thankful  we  should  be  to  Thee, 
For  Thine  angels  sent  down  to  defend  us 

From  dangers  our  eyes  never  see  ; 
From  perils  that  lurk  unsuspected, 

The  powers  of  earth  and  of  air, 
The  while  we  are  Heaven  protected 

And  guarded  from  evil  and  snare? 

Are  we  grateful,  as  grateful  we  should  be; 

For  commonplace  days  of  delight, 
When  safe  we  fare  forth  to  our  labor, 

And  safe  we  fare  homeward  at  night ; 
For  the  weeks  in  which  nothing  has  happened 

Save  commonplace  toiling  and  play, 
When  we've  worked  at  the  tasks  of  the  household 

And  peace  hushed  the  house  day  by  day  ? 

MARGARET  E.   SANGSTER. 
[108] 


APRIL   TWELFTH. 

ONE  day  at  a  time,  —  this  is  enough.     Do  not  look 
back  and  grieve  over  the  past,  for  it  is  gone ;  and 
do  not  be  troubled  about  the  future,  for  it  has  not  yet 
come.     Live  in  the  present,  and  make  it  so  beautiful 
that  it  will  be  worth  remembering. 

Only  one  day  at  a  time,  dear  heart, 

Only  one  day  at  a  time ; 
One  day's  sorrows  and  cares  and  joys 

To  weave  into  soulful  rhyme. 
One  day's  journey  along  the  way, 

Toilsome  and  rough  and  drear, 
Courage,  dear  heart!  soon  cometh  the  night, 

Then  will  come  rest ;  don't  fear. 

Bright  and  cheery  the  sun  may  rise 

Over  the  morrow's  way, 
Turning  the  rocks  to  nuggets  of  gold, 

Chasing  the  shadows  away. 
Give  thyself  to  its  cheering  power, 

Gather  its  shining  gold, 
Store  it  away  for  a  darker  hour, 

When  sunny  skies  grow  cold. 

One  day's  burden  thy  hands  may  bear, 

Nay,  'tis  enough,  dear  heart! 
Borrow  not  aught  of  to-morrow's  care, 

Cheerily  bear  thy  part. 
Strength  shall  be  given  thee,  hour  by  hour ; 

With  movement  slow  or  fast, 
One  by  one  they  will  glide  away 

Into  the  shadowy  past. 

MARY  MORRISON. 
[109] 


APRIL  THIRTEENTH. 

HEART-CONFIDENCES  are  very  sweet,  when 
trustingly  given,  and  faithfully  kept.  Surely  we 
may  give  our  dearest  and  best  secrets  into  God's  keep- 
ing and  know  that  He  will  tenderly  guard  them. 
There  is  no  want  for  the  day  but  He  will  be  glad  to 
know,  and  no  joy  or  sorrow  but  He  would  willingly 
share.  Let  us,  then,  whisper  into  His  listening  ear 
our  hopes  and  wishes  for  the  day ;  and  in  this  quiet 
hour  of  peace  seek  guidance,  strength  renewed,  and 
light  to  lead  us  onward,  through  life's  way. 

If  in  our  thoughts,  by  Thee  made  calm  and  clear, 
The  brightening  image  of  Thy  face  we  see, 

What  hour  of  all  our  lives  can  be  so  dear 
As  this  still  hour  with  Thee ! 

LUCY  LARCOM. 

Ah,  'tis  quiet  hours  like  these 

When  we  wistfully  look  above, 
And  see  the  works  of  the  great,  good  God, 

And  think  of  His  tender  love, 
That  helps  us  brave  to  be 

And  strengthens  us  on  our  way, 
Till  the  night  of  life  is  merged  at  last 

In  eternity's  perfect  day. 

CHARLOTTE   L.    SEAVER. 

And  yet  He  smiles  upon  us  in  His  grace. 

Our  glad  hearts  thrill,  and  say, 

"  He  is  not  far  away." 

His  love  streams  round  us  like  the  sunrise  ray ; 
Though  far  above  us,  past  the  azure  sky, 
Yet,  with  the  love  we  long  for,  He  is  nigh. 

JANE   MARIA   READ. 
[MO] 


APRIL  FOURTEENTH. 

HHHE  spirit  of  resurrection  breathes  on  all  around ; 
J-  may  thoughts  of  Christ  and  His  resurrection  fill 
your  hearts  to-day!  The  gloom  of  winter  has  passed 
and  gone,  the  chilling  winds  have  taken  flight,  the 
snows  have  melted,  and  where  was  once  frozen,  barren 
ground,  now  lies  the  velvet  sod  and  springing  flowers. 
Oh,  if  your  heart  has  been  cold  and  unyielding,  may  it 
awake  and  blossom  too,  and  many  sweet  and  tender 
thoughts  outbreathe  in  words  of  truth  and  goodness ! 

The  solemn  Lenten  bells  have  merged  in  joyful  chime, 
They  ring  out  full  and  free  the  song  of  Easter  time. 
The  passion-flowered  cross  no  longer  tells  of  death, 
A  resurrected  life  speaks  in  the  lilies'  breath. 

The  censer  flowers  exhale  their  perfume  pure  and  sweet, 
And  while  their  odors  rare  our  quickened  senses  greet, 
Let  all  our  souls  await  in  reverent  hope  and  love 
The  Spirit's  brooding  care  descending  from  above. 

May  all  our  votive  hearts  be  alabasters  white, 
Which,  breaking  to  our  Lord,  in  consecration's  rite, 
We  gladly  give.     Their  perfume  shall  be  hope,  this 

hour, 
And  faith,  which  ends  in  deed — love's  perfect-petalled 

flower. 

So  for  us  all  no  real  death  shall  be,  though  riven 
The  silver  cord,  or  broke  the  golden  bowl,  since,  given 
By  Christ,  immortal  life  is  ours.     For  us  no  night, 
Since  Heaven,  our  other  home,  is  white  with  during 
light. 

LOUISE   S.  BAKER. 
[Ill] 


APRIL   FIFTEENTH. 

LINCOLN  MEMORIAL  DAY. 
"  With  malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for  alV 

rT^HERE  are  times  in  the  history  of  men  and  nations 
J-  when  they  stand  so  near  the  veil  that  separates 
mortals  and  immortals,  time  from  eternity,  and  men 
from  their  God,  that  they  can  almost  hear  the  pulsa- 
tions of  the  Infinite.  Through  such  a  time  has  this 
nation  passed  from  the  field  of  honor  through  that  thin 
veil  to  the  presence  of  God,  and  when  at  last  its  part- 
ing folds  admitted  that  martyred  President  to  the  com- 
pany of  the  dead  heroes  of  the  Republic,  the  nation 
stood  so  near  the  veil  that  the  whispers  of  God  were 
heard  by  the  children  of  men.  —  JAMES  A.  GARFIELD. 

O  Slavery,  Abraham  Lincoln,  the  brave, 
Reached  out  in  his  pity  our  nation  to  save, 
He  struck  the  fell  blow  that  was  death  unto  thee ; 
That  blow,  praise  the  Lord!  made  America  free. 
And  Freedom,  the  dignified  daughter  of  Peace, 
Each  year  shall  his  merited  praises  increase ; 
The  sun  shall  turn  cold  and  its  light  fade  away 
Ere  the  world  shall  forget  him  we  honor  to-day. 

How  modest,  forgiving,  and  gentle  he  was  ; 
How  slow  to  condemn,  without  heaviest  cause ; 
How  ready  to  succor  the  helpless  and  weak  ; 
In  deep  provocation,  how  careful  to  speak! 
How  honors  became  him !  nor  did  he  once  boast, 
Though  placed  at  the  head  of  America's  host. 

We'll  crown  him  with  laurels,  will  honor  his  dust, 
Our  Abraham  Lincoln,  the  noble  and  just! 

IDA   SCOTT   TAYLOR. 
[112] 


APRIL   SIXTEENTH. 

GOD  gives  us  our  conscience  as  a  guide ;  we  stand 
alone,  and  are  at  liberty  to  obey  or  disobey  its 
whispers.  Each  one  is  left,  in  a  measure,  to  follow 
the  promptings  of  his  own  will.  We  are  expected  to 
live  a  true,  honorable  life,  and  to  cast  around  us  an 
influence  for  good  over  others.  This  is  what  we 
should  strive  for,  —  to  climb  up  as  near  Heaven  as  we 
can,  and  to  take  our  fellow-men  with  us. 

If  it  be  true  —  and  this  I  surely  know, 
That  I  shall  reap  the  very  kind  I  sow, 
That  I  must  stand  alone  —  not  for  another, 
And  answer  for  myself —  not  for  my  brother ; 
Then  should  I  waste  my  life  in  fruitless  care, 
For  what  another's  conscience  has  to  bear, 
Save,  if  I  may,  to  bear  some  humble  part 
To  lift  the  burden  from  an  aching  heart  ? 

JAMES  W.    BARKER. 

I  pray  to  live, 

Though  small  the  circuit  given, 
In  earnest  zeal,  to  bless  and  give 
My  best  to  other  lives  —  to  live 
Approved  by  truth  and  Heaven! 

MARION   DALANA   DANIEL. 

If  we  work  upon  marble,  it  will  perish ;  if  we  work 
upon  brass,  time  will  efface  it;  if  we  rear  temples, 
they  will  crumble  into  dust;  but  if  we  work  upon 
immortal  minds,  if  we  imbue  them  with  principles, 

—  with  the  just  fear  of  God  and  love  of  our  fellow-men, 

—  we  engrave   on  those   tablets  something  that  will 
brighten  to  all  eternity.  —  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

A  8  [113] 


APRIL   SEVENTEENTH. 

WHAT  God  and  your  better  nature  tell  you  to  do, 
arise  and  obey.  Not  with  dilatory  manner, 
and  slow,  lagging  steps,  but  with  the  gladness  of 
cheerful,  ready  obedience,  and  as  one  who  goes  forth 
to  meet  a  welcome  guest.  If  the  duty  is  irksome, 
still  go  forward  and  obey.  If  there  are  obstacles  that 
obstruct  your  path,  do  not  stand  back :  God  never 
exacts  obedience  to  impossibilities ;  the  way  will  be 
opened,  if  you  only  trust  and  obey.  The  trouble  is, 
too  many  of  us  are  trying  to  go  forward  in  our  own 
strength,  and  do  not  seek  to  be  guided  by  God  and 
Truth.  We  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  Divine  whisper, 
and  this  is  why  we  make  so  many  failures.  First 
listen,  and  then  obey. 

O  God,  my  flesh  may  tremble 

When  Thou  speakest  to  my  soul ; 
But  it  cannot  shun  Thy  presence  blessed, 

Nor  shrink  from  Thy  control. 
A  joy  my  spirit  cheereth 

That  cannot  pass  away : 
Speak,  for  Thy  servant  heareth, 

And  heareth  to  obey. 

Thou  biddest  me  to  utter 

Words  that  I  scarce  may  speak, 
And  mighty  things  were  laid  on  me, 

A  helpless  one,  and  weak  : 
Darkly  Thy  truth  declareth 

Its  purpose  and  its  way : 
Speak,  for  Thy  servant  heareth, 

And  heareth  to  obey. 

JULIA   WARD   HOWE. 

[114] 


APRIL  EIGHTEENTH. 

HOW  perfect  is  the  plan  of  Nature!  The  earth 
lies  richly  dressed  to-day  in  the  beautiful  garb 
of  blossoming  Spring.  What  an  awakening!  what  a 
jubilee!  Everything  is  sprouting,  and  pulsing,  and 
reaching  out  into  the  light.  O  Dreamer,  dream  no 
longer ;  thou  hast  a  work  before  thee.  Push  up  into 
the  light  of  a  nobler  •existence.  Let  the  secret  work- 
ings of  the  spring-time  begin  in  thy  soul ;  through  the 
dull  earth-life  of  Self  arise  and  plume  thyself  for  flight. 
Mount  upward,  —  no  longer  dream,  but  act. 

I  have  done,  at  length,  with  dreaming ; 

Henceforth,  O  thou  Soul  of  mine, 
Thou  must  take  up  sword  and  gauntlet, 

Waging  warfare  most  divine. 
Life  is  struggle,  combat,  victory,  — 

Wherefore  have  I  slumbered  on 
With  my  forces  all  unmarshalled, 

With  my  weapons  all  undrawn? 
Oh,  how  many  a  glorious  record 

Had  the  angel  of  me  kept, 
Had  I  done  instead  of  doubted, 

Had  I  warred  instead  of  wept ! 

Yet,  my  Soul,  look  not  behind  thee, 

Thou  hast  work  to  do  at  last ; 
Let  the  brave  toil  of  the  Present 

Overarch  the  crumbling  Past ; 
Build  thy  great  acts  high,  and  higher, 

Build  them  on  the  conquered  sod 
Where  thy  weakness  first  fell  bleeding, 

And  thy  first  prayer  rose  to  God. 

CAROLINE  A.   BRIGGS. 


APRIL   NINETEENTH. 

"  A  SSOCIATION  begets  assimilation,"  is  an  old- 
/x  fashioned  motto,  but  nevertheless  a  very  true 
one.  We  are  naturally  more  or  less  affected  by  the 
company  we  keep.  If  we  would  be  gentle  and  refined 
in  manner  and  conversation,  let  us  choose  our  asso- 
ciates among  those  who  are  cultivated  and  pure  ;  those 
who  have  learned,  not  merely  the  grace  of  outward 
composure,  but  who  possess  the  gentleness  of  mind, 
as  well.  Let  us  remember,  too,  that  our  influence  is 
of  no  small  account.  If  we  would  be  surrounded  by 
refinement,  we  must  be  pure  and  refined  ourselves. 

And  men  are  polished,  through  act  and  speech, 

Each  by  each, 
As  pebbles  are  smoothed  on  the  rolling  beach. 

J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE. 

Cast  my  heart's  gold  into  the  furnace  flame, 
And  if  it  comes  out  thence  refined  and  pure, 
I'll  be  a  bankrupt  to  thy  hope,  and  Heaven 
Shall  shut  its  gates  on  me. 

LYDIA   H.   SIGOURNEY. 

True  refinement  is  not  mere  outside  polish.  It  is 
purity,  gentleness,  and  grace  in  the  heart  which,  like 
the  perfume  of  a  flower,  breathe  out  and  bathe  all  the 
life  in  sweetness.  It  is  not  mental  culture ;  there  is 
often  true  refinement  where  education  has  been  lim- 
ited, where,  in  the  speech  you  may  detect  faults  and 
errors.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  sometimes  high 
intellectual  training  and  furnishing  without  any  true 
refinement.  That  which  really  refines  is  purity  of 
mind  and  heart.  —  ANONYMOUS. 
[116] 


APRIL   TWENTIETH. 

IT  is  much  easier  to  arm  ourselves  to  face  a  great 
battle,  than  to  be  able  to  meet  the  little  daily  thrusts 
from  the  enemy.  It  is  the  little  things  that  make  or 
mar  our  life,  that  sweeten  or  embitter  our  disposition, 
and  that  prepare  or  unfit  us  for  Heaven.  We  look  at 
disappointments  and  trials  very  differently.  While 
one  may  use  them  as  stepping-stones  to  some  great 
good,  another  will  frown  and  fret  and  grow  irritable 
under  them ;  often,  though  we  cannot  see  it  at  the 
time,  these  same  disappointments  have  resulted  in  our 
happiness.  The  discipline  was  severe,  but  how  much 
better  it  is  to  bear  it  patiently  and  trust  to  our  dear 
Heavenly  Father  to  bring  out  of  it  a  blessing,  than  to 
chafe  under  it  and  think  our  lot  too  hard  to  bear.  Be 
patient;  it  is  the  oft-repeated  thrust  that  is  far  more 
trying  than  the  one  great  blow.  Make  a  pleasure  of 
every  duty,  and  do  not  allow  the  little  worries  to  rob 
your  temper  of  its  sweetness. 

We  call  him  strong  who  stands  unmoved  — 
Calm  as  some  tempest-beaten  rock  — 
When  some  great  trouble  hurls  its  shock ; 

We  say  of  him,  "  His  strength  is  proved" : 

But,  when  the  spent  storm  folds  its  wings, 
How  bears  he  then  Life's  little  things? 

ELLEN   P.    ALLERTON. 

The  little  touch  may  hurt  the  most  — 

A  harsh  or  kind  word  spoken 
May  light  another's  darkened  way 

Or  pierce  a  spirit  broken. 

MRS.  J.  C.  FIELD. 


R 


APRIL  TWENTY-FIRST. 

1EMEMBER  that  what  you  believe  will  depend 
very  much  upon  what  you  are.  —  NOAH  PORTER. 


In  the  destiny  of  every  moral  being,  there  is  an 
object  more  worthy  of  God  than  happiness.  It  is 
character.  And  the  grand  aim  of  man's  creation  is 
the  development  of  a  grand  character;  and  grand 
character  is,  by  its  very  nature,  the  product  of  proba- 
tionary discipline.  —  AUSTIN  PHELPS. 

Oh!  let  all  the  soul  within  you 
For  the  truth's  sake  go  abroad! 

Strike,  let  every  nerve  and  sinew 
Tell  on  ages,  tell  for  God! 

ARTHUR   CLEVELAND   COXE. 

Not  in  rewards,  but  in  the  strength  to  strive, 
The  blessing  lies,  and  new  experience  gained ; 

In  daily  duties  done,  hope  kept  alive, 
That  Love  and  Thought  are  housed  and  entertained. 

J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE. 

Love.  Truth,  and  Justice  are  good  foundations  for 
a  strong  character.  Build  well,  for  the  eye  of  the  In- 
finite is  watching,  and  the  world  is  watching  too.  Aim 
high ;  lofty  aspirations  are  vastly  important  in  char- 
acter-building. 

A  man  is  what  he  is,  not  what  men  say  he  is.  His 
character  is  what  is  before  God.  That  no  man  can 
touch  ;  only  he  himself  can  damage  it.  His  reputation 
is  what  men  say  he  is.  That  may  be  damaged.  Rep- 
utation is  for  time;  character  is  for  eternity.  —  j.  B. 

GOUGH. 

[118] 


APRIL    TWENTY-SECOND. 

MAY  this  be  a  happy  day  to  thee!  Be  thou  a 
blessing  to  thyself,  and  thou  shalt  then  prove  a 
blessing  to  others.  Some  one  has  said,  "  The  best 
receipt  for  the  year's  happiness  is  summed  up  in  one 
word  :  kindness.  Kindness  to  others,  unselfish  giving, 
doing  good  as  the  opportunity  is  afforded,  will  make  a 
life,  not  happy  merely,  but  blessed."  Thou  hast,  per- 
haps, many  noble  qualities  of  mind  —  thou  art  true  and 
faithful  in  thy  affections  and  duties,  and  conscientious 
in  word  and  deed :  thou  art  kind  too,  it  may  be,  but 
there  are  many  ways  of  being  kind :  there  is  the  kind- 
ness for  humanity's  sake,  and  the  kindness  for  Christ's 
sake.  As  Christ  is  the  King  of  humanity,  I  wish  for 
thee  the  triumphant  joy  of  being  kind  for  His  sake. 
As  soon  as  thou  hast  attained  to  this,  thou  shalt 
possess  true  happiness. 


Look  at  him 

Who  reads  aright  the  image  on  his  soul, 
And  gives  it  nurture  like  a  child  of  light, 
His  life  is  calm  and  blessed,  for  his  peace, 
Like  a  rich  pearl  beyond  the  diver's  ken, 
Lies  deep  in  his  own  bosom.     He  is  pure, 
For  the  soul's  errands  are  not  done  with  men ; 
His  senses  are  subdued  and  serve  the  soul. 

N.  P.  WILLIS. 


Life  hath  but  shadows,  save  a  promise  given, 
Which  lights  the  future  with  a  fadeless  ray, 

Oh,  touch  the  sceptre  !  win  a  hope  in  Heaven ; 
Come,  turn  thy  spirit  from  the  world  away! 

WILLIS   G.  CLARK. 
["9] 


APRIL   TWENTY-THIRD. 

YOUR  text  for  to-day,  — "God  knows."  What  if 
you  do  make  mistakes?  Never  mind  them,  so 
the  motive  was  right :  you  meant  to  do  your  best,  and 
it  was  the  wrong  thing,  after  all.  And  now  you  are  dis- 
couraged and  disheartened,  and  feel,  perhaps,  that  your 
life  has  been  a  miserable  failure.  Oh  don't  feel  so !  Just 
remember  that  if  others  do  not  understand,  God  does. 

O  tired  heart, 
God  knows ! 
Not  you  nor  I, 

Who  reach  our  hands  for  gifts 
That  wise  love  must  deny. 
We  blunder  where  we  fain  would  do  our  best, 
Until  a-weary,  then  we  cry,  "  Do  Thou  the  rest." 
And  in  His  hands  the  tangled  threads  we  place, 
Of  our  poor,  blind  weaving,  with  a  shamed  face. 
All  trust  of  ours  He  sacredly  will  keep, 
So  tired  heart  —  God  knows  —  go  thou  to  work  or 
sleep. 

O  tired  heart, 
God  knows, 
Where  we  but  guess, 
Of  unknown  future  years, 

Their  joys  or  bitterness. 
For  we  are  finite,  limited,  enfurled, 
His  vision  in  its  sweep  reaches  from  world  to  world. 
Our  hidden,  complex  selves,  His  eye  doth  see, 
And  with  exceeding  tenderness,  weighs  equally. 
O  wisdom  infinite!     O  love  naught  can  o'erwhelm! 
Rest,  tired  heart  —  God  knows,  give  unto  Him  the 
helm. 

HANNAH   CODDINGTON. 
[120] 


APRIL  TWENTY-FOURTH. 

HHHERE'S  a  mighty  temptation,  the  growth  of  the 
1       age, 

Deep  set  in  the  life  of  to-day  ; 

There  is  falsehood,  that  staineth  the  world's  printed 
page, 

That  leadeth  in  dishonor's  way. 
To  be  true  to  the  best  that  lies  in  our  power, 
To  be  true  to  the  right,  is  the  need  of  the  hour. 

ELLEN   DARE. 

Oh,  if  the  world  would  only  be  "  true  to  the  right " ! 
It  is  because  they  reach  out  after  false  doctrines  and 
ideas  that  the  need  of  the  hour  is  so  great.  Get  into 
the  good  old  paths  of  Truth  and  Right ;  they  are  safe 
roads,  and  lead  to  a  safe  abode.  Keep  clear  of  the 
side-tracks  ;  you  only  lose  time  by  walking  in  them,  for, 
although  they  may  allure  you  for  a  while,  you  will  soon 
long  for  the  old  tried  paths  your  fathers  trod.  Oh,  the 
need  of  the  hour  is  to  be  strong  and  true,  and  to  follow 
Right,  as  closely  as  we  can! 

Man  should  dare  all  things  that  he  knows  are  right, 
And  fear  to  do  no  act  save  what  is  wrong ; 

But,  guided  safely  by  his  inward  light, 
And  with  a  permanent  belief,  and  strong, 

In  Him  who  is  our  Father  and  our  Friend, 

He  should  walk  steadfastly  unto  the  end. 

PHCEBE   GARY, 

What  hast  thou  wrought  for  Right  and  Truth, 

For  God  and  Man, 
From  the  golden  hours  of  bright-eyed  youth 

To  life's  mid  span? 

JOHN   GREENLEAF   WHITTIER. 
[121] 


APRIL  TWENTY-FIFTH. 

*T~*HERE  is  no  journey  of  life  but  has  its  clouded 
J-  days ;  and  there  are  some  days  in  which  our 
eyes  are  so  blinded  with  tears  that  we  find  it  hard  to 
see  our  way  or  even  read  God's  promises.  Those 
days  that  have  a  bright  sunrise,  followed  by  sudden 
thunderclaps  and  bursts  of  unlooked-for  sorrows,  are 
the  ones  that  test  certain  of  our  graces  most  severely. 
Yet  the  law  of  spiritual  eyesight  very  closely  resembles 
the  law  of  physical  optics.  When  we  come  suddenly 
out  of  the  daylight  into  a  room  even  moderately 
darkened,  we  can  discern  nothing ;  but  the  pupil  of 
our  eye  gradually  enlarges  until  unseen  objects  become 
visible.  Even  so  the  pupil  of  the  eye  of  faith  has  the 
blessed  faculty  of  enlarging  in  dark  hours  of  bereave- 
ment, so  we  discover  that  our  loving  Father's  hand  is 
holding  the  cup  of  trial,  and  by  and  by  the  gloom  be- 
comes luminous  with  glory.  —  THEODORE  CUYLER. 

O  my  Father!  Thou  hast  made  me  — 
I  have  life,  and  life  must  have  its  way ; 

Why  should  love  and  gladness  be  gainsaid  me  ? 
Why  should  shadows  cloud  my  little  day  ? 

CONSTANCE  FENIMORE  WOOLSON. 

I'm  walking  in  the  shadow, 

But  lo !  the  morning  breaks, 
And  with  its  glad  returning, 

My  hope  renewed  awakes. 

MRS.    F.    C.    VAN   ALSTYNE. 

May  God  clear  away  all  shadows  from  your  sky,  and 
fill  your  pathway  with  the  wondrous  light  of  His  love ; 
and  may  you  walk  heavenward  with  Him! 


APRIL   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

GIVE  words,  kind  words  to  those  who  err ; 
Remorse  doth  need  a  comforter. 

Though  in  temptation's  wiles  they  fall, 
Condemn  not  —  we  are  sinners  all. 
With  the  sweet  charity  of  speech, 
Give  words  that  heal,  and  words  that  teach. 

LYDIA   H.    SIGOURNEY. 

It  is  the  charity  of  speech  that  we  all  need.  We  are 
ever  too  ready  to  condemn  and  misjudge  others.  So 
often  we  are  deceived  by  appearances,  and  we  allow 
ourselves  to  be  prejudiced  against  our  neighbor ;  then 
we  speak  a  little  unkind  word,  or  make  a  little  slight- 
ing remark,  or  perhaps  it  is  not  even  this  much,  —  it 
may  only  be  a  mere  look  of  disapproval  or  a  disdainful 
shrug.  Oh,  how  un-Christlike  this  is !  Let  us  try  to 
find  excuses  for  the  faults  of  others. 

You  may  whisper  words  of  comfort 

That  will  hope  and  faith  renew, 
You  may  drop  a  gentle  warning, 

That  will  keep  a  whole  life  true ; 
You  may  touch  a  soul  by  mildness, 

And  by  words  of  love  and  cheer, 
That  would  never  yield  or  soften 

1Neath  a  cruel  scoff  or  jeer. 

Like  a  heavenly  benediction 

Falling  softly  from  above, 
Thrills  the  sympathetic  kindness 

Through  the  words  of  hope  and  love. 

MARTHA   C.    OLIVER. 


APRIL   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

AND  now  from  field  to  field  the  patient  sower 
wends  his  way,  and  scatters  carefully  the  tiny 
seed,  when  he  has  ploughed  the  yielding  sod.  The 
sun,  by  day,  looks  down  and  smiles,  all  glad  and 
warm ;  the  moon  and  stars,  by  night,  shine  radiant 
and  dear,  while  shower  and  dew  and  freshening  winds 
all  bear  a  willing  part  to  wake  to  life  the  hidden  germ 
that  lies  beneath  the  soil.  As  thou  dost  go,  O  child 
of  man,  upon  the  pilgrimage  of  earth,  cast  forth  thy 
seed  with  lavish  hand.  The  Heavenly  Sun  shall  add 
His  beams,  the  Light  celestial  downward  shine,  the 
showers  of  mercy  shall  on  the  waiting  seed  descend, 
till  lo !  in  fields  of  Love  and  Truth  shall  wave  the  har- 
vests thou  hast  sown,  to  feed  the  hungry  heart  of  man. 


Our  field  is  the  world  !  let  us  forth  to  the  sowing ; 

O'er  valley  and  mountain,  o'er  desert  and  plain ; 
Beside  the  still  waters  thro1  cool  meadows  flowing ; 

O'er  regions  unblest  by  the  dew  and  the  rain. 

Let  us  scatter  the  seed,  tho'  in  sorrow  and  weeping ; 

Tho'  fields  should  be  verdureless,  wintry  and  bare ; 
The  Lord  of  the  harvest  hath  still  in  His  keeping 

Each  seed  as  it  falls,  and  will  guard  it  with  care. 

Then  each  for  his  reaping,  and  each  for  his  mourning, 
Shall  sometime  rejoice  when  the  harvest  is  won, 

And  know,  in  the  flush  of  eternity's  morning, 
The  toil,  the  reward,  and  the  glory  are  one ! 

MRS.   J.    C.    YULE. 


[124] 


APRIL  TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

DOUBT  not,  dear  troubled  Heart!  Hast  thou  been 
deceived  and  disappointed?  Hast  thou  grown 
cold  and  distrustful  ?  I  beseech  thee  do  not  let  these 
things  take  away  thy  joy  and  peace.  Who  cares  for 
the  birds  in  the  brooding  winter  days?  God  shows 
them  where  to  go,  and  they  trust  in  Him,  and  go  sing- 
ing. So  shouldst  thou,  O  Doubter,  fly  to  the  sum- 
merland  of  His  love,  when  cares  are  heavy  and  losses 
are  great.  He  will  never  forsake  thee ;  then  doubt 
no  longer! 

Doubt,  like  a  shadowy  shape  of  wrong, 
Pursues  —  appalls  me ;  but  I  hold 
A  little  leading  thread  of  gold ; 

Therefore,  O  doubting  heart,  be  strong. 

MARY  A.    LATHBURY. 

O,  children  beloved,  will  you  not  understand 

'Tis  the  doubt  in  the  heart  that  unnerves  the  hand  ? 

To  the  arm  of  the  child,  that  would  trust  Me  all, 

With  never  a  doubt  of  what  would  befall, 

I  could  give  the  strength  and  the  courage  and  skill 

Of  the  mightiest  angel  that  does  My  will. 

MARIA   LOUISE  EVE. 

God  grant  that  all  who  watch  to-day 
Beside  their  sepulchres  of  Loss 

May  see  the  great  stone  roll  away  — 
May  see,  at  last  with  vision  clear, 
The  shining  angel  standing  near, 

And  through  the  dimly  lighted  soul 

Again  may  Joy's  evangel  roll  — 
The  glory  of  the  Cross ! 

JULIA   H.    THAYER. 


APRIL   TWENTY-NINTH. 

ISN'T  it  strange  what  a  variety  of  happenings  falls  to 
our  lot?  You  think  your  life  uneventful,  common- 
place, monotonous,  but  this  is  really  not  so.  It  is  as 
full  of  changes  as  a  summer  sky.  One  moment  you 
are  all  sunshine,  the  next  all  tears ;  one  day  you  are 
buoyant  with  hope,  the  next  despondent  with  fear. 
Anger  sometimes  takes  entire  possession  of  you,  and 
then  melts  away  to  give  place  to  forgiveness.  Joy 
tunes  your  lips  to  song,  but  in  the  midst  of  your  glad- 
ness grief  lays  her  cruel  hand  upon  you,  and  you  are 
plunged  into  blackest  despair.  Yes,  there  are  shadows 
and  sorrows;  but,  thank  God!  there  is  always  light 
beyond,  and  you  have  only  to  lift  your  eyes  to  see  it 
shining  full  and  clear  —  the  radiance  of  an  eternal 
Hope  that  shall  never  be  lost. 

Thou  shalt  have  sun  and  shower  from  Heaven  above, 
Thou  shalt  have  flower  and  thorn  from  earth  below, 

Thine  shall  be  foe  to  hate  and  friend  to  love, 
Pleasure  that  others  gain,  the  ills  they  know,  — 
And  all  in  a  lifetime. 

EDMUND   CLARENCE   STEDMAN. 

The  winds  of  God  shall  sweep  the  clouds 

Away  across  the  sky, 
And  all  the  shades  shall  be  dispelled 

That  in  the  valleys  lie ; 
And  though  these  shadows  linger  still, 

The  heart  with  rapture  thrills, 
That  while  we  wait  and  work  and  pray 

The  light  shines  on  the  hills! 

ELIZA   O.    PIERSON. 

[126] 


APRIL  THIRTIETH. 

I  KNOW  not  why,  but  I  am  sure 
That  tint  and  place, 
In  some  great  fabric  to  endure 

Past  time  and  race 
My  threads  will  have. 

HELEN   HUNT  JACKSON. 

Let  God  choose  the  pattern  for  your  work.  You 
would  only  confuse  the  colors  and  begin  it  all  wrong. 
He  sets  the  threads  even  and  true,  and  gives  the 
shuttles  into  your  hands  that  you  may  do  the  work 
yourself.  And  how  often  you  have  grumbled  and 
envied  some  one  else  their  task  and  their  surroundings. 
Be  willing  to  be  guided  by  the  Master-hand ;  it  makes 
no  mistakes.  Your  part  is  but  to  take  the  place 
appointed,  and  follow  your  pattern,  and  to  lose  no  time 
in  doing  your  best.  April  is  slipping  away,  and  leaves 
you  with  the  unfinished  weft  of  your  life-work  in  your 
hands.  Trust  God  to  show  you  how  to  weave  each 
thread  for  Him. 

I  leave  my  life  with  Thee,  my  Lord ; 

I  dare  not  seek  to  know 
What  pattern  Thou  hast  set  for  me 

To  work,  as  on  I  go. 

SUSAN  V.   ALDRICH. 

I  cannot  tell,  but  gladly  leave 

All  in  my  Father's  hands ; 
Assured  that,  as  the  past  has  been, 

The  future  still  shall  be  ; 
Each  day  will  bring  its  needed  grace, 

Its  needed  strength  to  me. 

MARY   K.    BUCK. 

[127] 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF   MAY 


MAY   FIRST. 

HAIL,  bonny  May!  we  welcome  thee  to  earth  once 
more.  April's  gates  have  closed  behind  her,  and 
left  only  the  sweet  remembrance  of  her  presence ;  mild- 
ness, verdure,  bird-song,  and  quickened  life  are  evidences 
of  her  visitation,  and  the  earth  is  still  sprinkled  with 
her  little  violet  children.  And  now  it  is  May-day ;  the 
lilacs  are  nodding  their  purple  and  white  plumes,  and 
the  sweet-breathed  cherry  blossoms  are  hourly  opening 
into  new  white  stars.  In  full,  symmetrical  globes  of 
bloom  stands  the  stately  gelder-rose,  lifting  her  crown 
of  purity  up  into  the  blue  sky,  —  and  all  the  earth 
rejoices  and  praises  God. 

Around  the  May-pole,  hand  in  hand, 

The  merry  children  dance, 
And  make  of  earth  a  fairy-land 

Of  beauty  and  romance, 
As  in  and  out  they  swiftly  glide, 

Adorned  with  flowers  gay, 
And  fling  their  garlands  far  and  wide 

To  greet  the  beauteous  May! 

I.  s.  T. 

O  listen!  the  Jubilate 

From  every  bough  is  poured, 
And  earth  in  the  smile  of  the  springtime 

Arises  to  greet  her  Lord ! 

FRANCES  LAUGHTON   MACE. 
[128] 


DONALD    G.    MITCHELL 
IS22 


MAY   SECOND. 

THE  world  is  wondrous  fair  to-day.  There  is 
beauty  and  fragrance  all  around  us  :  the  orchards 
are  steeped  in  perfume,  and  there  is  a  fluttering  of 
rosy-tinted  wings  against  the  soft  blue  sky  with  every 
passing  breeze.  Millions  of  airy  butterflies  seem  flit- 
ting past,  and  yet  they  are  not  butterflies  at  all,  but  the 
silky  petals  of  the  blushing  apple  blooms.  May  God 
keep  your  heart  as  pure  and  guileless  as  the  blossoms 
of  the  apple-tree,  and  grant  that  the  influence  of  your 
life  may  shed  a  perfume  on  all  other  hearts  around  you 
that  shall  sweeten  them  as  long  as  life  shall  last. 

The  apple-trees  are  laden  with  blossoms  to-day, 
White  blossoms  as  pure  as  the  snow  that  fell 

From  Heaven,  and  clothed  all  the  slumbering  trees 
In  robes  that  would  grace  the  fair  angels  as  well. 

ISABELLA  W.   MCCONIHE. 

Heart!  yield  up  thy  fruitless  quest, 

Beneath  the  apple-tree ; 
Youth  comes  but  once,  love  only  once, 

And  May  but  once  to  thee! 

ELIZABETH   STUART   PHELPS. 

The  apple-tree  blooms,  and  forgets  that  she  has  ever 
been  fragrant  and  beautiful.  She  lays  aside  her  deli- 
cate attire,  and,  screening  herself  in  leafy  shadow, 
begins  to  make  preparations  for  harvest.  Thou  too,  if 
not  beautiful,  canst  at  least  be  dutiful,  that  thy  soul's 
harvest  may  be  abundant.  If  thou  doest  noble  deeds, 
be  forgetful  of  them,  and,  like  the  apple-tree,  go  quietly 
on  doing  the  work  God  appoints  for  thee. 
A  9  [129] 


MAY   THIRD. 

IF  we  keep  pace  with  Nature  and  the  times,  we  must 
not  be  content  with  what  we  are.  The  mind  and 
soul  within  us  are  hungering  to  be  fed.  To  feed  the 
body  is  not  enough ;  the  intellectual  and  spiritual  part 
of  us  needs  a  far  greater  storehouse  than  the  temporal. 
We  are  like  the  little  stream  that  trickles  down  the 
mountain-side,  gathering  new  force  from  smaller 
streams;  we  reach  out  for  something  to  help  and 
strengthen  us  every  day,  for  we  are  all  rushing  onward 
to  join  the  great  sea  of  Eternity.  We  may  be  content 
with  our  outer  surroundings,  but  to  be  satisfied  with 
self  and  the  inner  life  makes  of  our  existence  a  complete 
failure. 

No  man  may  say  at  night 

His  goal  is  reached ;  the  hunger  for  the  light 
Moves  with  the  star ;  our  thirst  will  not  depart 

Howe'er  we  drink.     'Tis  what  before  us  goes 
Keeps  us  aweary,  will  not  let  us  lay 
Our  heads  in  dreamland,  though  the  enchanted  palm 

Rise  from  our  desert ;  though  the  fountain  grows 
Up  in  our  path,  with  slumber's  flowing  balm ; 

The  soul  is  o'er  the  horizon  far  away. 

JOHN  JAMES   PIATT. 

O,  laggard  soul!  unclose  thine  eyes  — 

No  more  in  luxury  soft 
Of  joy  ideal  waste  thyself: 

Awake,  and  soar  aloft! 
Unfurl  this  hour  those  falcon  wings 

Which  thou  dost  fold  too  long ; 
Raise  to  the  skies  thy  lightning  gaze, 

And  sing  thy  loftiest  song! 

FRANCES   S.    OSGOOD. 

[130] 


MAY   FOURTH. 

TVTO  matter  what  may  come,  be  assured  that  God 
*  ^1  loves  you.  It  is  such  a  sweet,  comforting  love ; 
such  a  full,  boundless  love ;  such  a  pitying,  protecting 
love.  Oh,  the  love  of  God !  it  is  broad  enough  to  cover 
the  whole  wide  world,  and  all  Heaven  besides!  It 
has  neither  beginning  nor  end,  and  it  will  go  on,  and 
on,  and  on,  forever! 

Of  this  I'm  sure :  if  sorrow  waits, 

God's  love  is  waiting,  too ; 
I'll  lean  my  weakness  on  His  strength, 

And  He  will  bear  me  through. 

MARY   K.    BUCK. 

And  so  through  this  weary  world  we  go, 
Bearing  our  burdens  of  needless  woe, 
Carrying  hearts  that  are  heavy  and  slow, 

Under  their  load  of  care ; 
When,  oh,  if  we  only,  only  knew 
That  God  is  tender  and  kind  and  true, 
And  that  He  loves  us  through  and  through, 

Our  hearts  would  be  lighter  than  air. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Bid  Christ's  unceasing  love  and  boundless  power 
Light  for  each  problem,  strength  for  duty  bring ; 

Cleansing  for  sin,  till  Heaven's  own  glorious  hour 
In  sweetness  shall  dissolve  each  bitter  thing. 

ALICE   C.   JENNINGS. 

Step  after  step,  feeling  Thee  close  beside  me, 

Although  unseen, 
Assured  Thy  faithfulness  cannot  betray, 

Thy  love  decay. 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

[131] 


MAY   FIFTH. 

A  DAY  WITH  MEMORY. 

WHO  does  not  enjoy  taking  a  little  backward  look 
sometimes?  Walk  out  into  the  May  sunshine, 
breathe  the  sweet  pure  air  and  smell  the  fragrance  of 
spicy  woods  and  opening  flowers.  Is  there  anything 
that  does  not  remind  you  of  some  long-ago  time  ?  The 
same  blue  sky  once  smiled  on  you  when  you  were  just 
beginning  life's  happy  journey ;  just  entering  manhood 
or  womanhood,  and  the  sweet  young  faces  that  were 
grouped  about  you  in  a  certain  bright  May-day  years 
ago  come  back  again  to  greet  you  now,  and  to  laugh 
and  to  talk  just  as  they  used  to  do.  And  that  robin's 
song;  do  you  remember  when  the  robins  sang  so 
blithely  in  your  childhood  about  the  dear  old  home  ? 
It  was  just  such  weather  as  this  when  you  watched 
them  flying  back  and  forth,  lighting  on  a  twig  here  and 
there,  to  pour  forth  a  gush  of  melody.  Ah,  how  it  all 
comes  back  to-day,  and  how  many  changes  have  oc- 
curred since  those  'glad  days  of  youth  have  vanished. 
Yonder  is  a  bed  of  flowers  ;  think  a  moment,  —  don't 
they  remind  you  of  the  old  garden  that  mother  loved  ? 
Columbine,  phlox,  rosemary,  lavender, "  love  lies  bleed- 
ing," clove  pinks,  and  mignonette,  —  they  are  all  sweet 
perfumes  of  the  past ;  little  things,  you  say,  but  power- 
ful enough  to  draw  you,  by  their  subtle  fragrance,  '•  down 
the  dim  avenues  of  time,"  and  into  the  old  haunts  of 
Memory. 

But  future  years  may  never  fling 
A  treasure  from  their  passing  hours, 

Like  those  that  come  on  sleepless  wing, 
From  Memory's  golden  plain  of  flowers. 

JAMES  G.   CLARK. 
[132] 


MAY   SIXTH. 

YOU  are  never  to  complain  of  your  birth,  your 
training,  your  employment,  your  hardships, — 
never  to  fancy  that  you  could  be  something  if  only 
you  had  a  different  lot  and  sphere  assigned  you.  God 
understands  His  own  plan,  and  He  knows  what  you 
want  a  great  deal  better  than  you  do.  What  you  call 
hindrances,  obstacles,  discouragements,  are  probably 
God's  opportunities.  —  HORACE  BUSHNELL. 

O  Father!  help  us  to  resign 

Our  hearts,  our  strength,  our  wills  to  Thee ; 
Then  even  lowliest  work  of  Thine 

Most  noble,  blest,  and  sweet  will  be. 

HARRIET   M.    KIMBALL. 

Do  not  allow  yourself  to  complain :  it  makes  you 
irritable  and  unhappy ;  it  drives  away  your  friends  and 
robs  life  of  half  of  its  beauty  and  attractiveness.  A 
man  who  is  always  complaining,  frets  away  the  very 
sunshine  ;  he  never  sees  any  good  in  anything. 

Why  need  we  complain  ?     Each  setting  sun 
Is  somewhere,  in  truth,  a  rising  one ; 
And  whether  it  be  in  your  world  or  mine 
That  stars  shall  gleam,  or  sun  shall  shine, 
What  does  it  matter?     The  fact  holds  true  — 
It's  daytime  somewhere  all  the  year  through. 

In  spite  of  all  the  fret  and  despair, 

A  song  is  always  borne  on  the  air, 

And,  somewhere,  the  world  is  spanned  with  blue, 

And  earth  is  bright  with  roses1  hue ; 

Then  leave  your  stormy,  cheerless  heather, 

And  live  in  a  world  of  pleasant  weather. 

LETTY   BIGELOW. 
[133] 


MAY   SEVENTH. 

A  WORD  —  and  the  skies  would  brighten ; 
A  word  —  and  the  clouds  would  fly ; 
A  word  —  and  the  soul  find  healing, 
And  hurt  hearts  cease  to  sigh. 

Oh,  word  ere  too  late,  be  spoken! 

Let  the  threshold  of  silence  be  crossed, 
Ere  the  thread  of  thy  fate  be  broken 

And  thy  chance  forever  be  lost! 

MARK   F.    GRISWOLD. 

Don't  wait  to  say  the  needed  word,  or  to  do  the 
needed  kindness.  Life,  at  the  longest,  is  only  a  brief 
span ;  therefore  don't  let  its  chances  pass  you  by. 
Give  not  only  the  kind  and  friendly  word,  but  the 
encouraging  and  helpful  one,  as  well.  Commenda- 
tion, when  it  is  deserved,  will  make  many  a  burden 
lighter. 

If  you've  anything  good  to  say  to  a  man, 

Don't  wait  till  he's  laid  to  rest, 
For  the  eulogy  spoken  when  hearts  are  broken 

Is  an  empty  thing  at  best. 

MICHAEL  JOSEPH   DONNELLY. 

If  any  little  word  of  mine 

May  make  a  life  the  brighter ; 
If  any  little  song  of  mine 

May  make  a  heart  the  lighter ; 
God  help  me  to  speak  the  little  word 

And  take  my  bit  of  singing 
And  drop  it  in  some  lonely  vale, 

To  set  the  echoes  ringing. 

ANONYMOUS. 
[134] 


MAY   EIGHTH. 

OH,  the  beauty  of  humility!  How  rare  it  is  to  find 
people  possessing  some  gift,  who  do  not  boast 
of  it  and  hold  it  up  before  others  as  a  wonderful  thing, 
which  should  be  much  talked  of  and  noticed.  Every 
talent  we  have  is  a  gift  of  God ;  we  have  nothing  to 
do  with  it  except  to  cultivate  and  take  care  of  it,  and 
to  thank  God  for  it.  It  is  right  that  we  should  be 
aware  of  His  especial  favor  to  us,  but  not  to  be  boast- 
ful and  conceited  over  it. 

Do  good,  do  all  the  good  you  can. 

Go  forth  and  all  your  treasures  scatter ; 
And  still  regard  the  fame  thereof 

A  trifling  matter. 

Whene'er  the  nightingale  pours  out 
A  song,  the  listening  vale  surprising, 

It  does  not  give  itself  at  once 
To  advertising. 

Whene'er  a  rose  in  perfect  bloom 

Outvies  the  glory  of  the  morning, 
It  does  not  go  and  boast  thereof, 

Its  fellows  scorning. 

Whene'er  a  tree  in  garden  fair 

Perfumes  the  breeze  with  blossoms  tender, 
It  does  not  cry  to  all  who  pass, 

"  Behold  my  splendor! " 

Ah,  no,  the  nightingale  sings  on, 
The  rose  and  tree  just  do  their  duty, 

Content  though  few  have  knowledge  of 
Their  wondrous  beauty. 

GEORGE  W.    CROFTS. 
[135] 


MAY   NINTH. 

UP,  Heart,  and  sing!  The  birds  make  music,  why 
not  thou?  From  woodland  and  hillside  a  thou- 
sand merry  warblers  send  their  praises  through  the 
skies.  The  meadow-lark,  while  on  the  wing,  outpours 
a  glorious  tide  of  song,  and  blue-bird,  thrush  and 
whippoorwill  and  bob-o-link  and  martins  all  are  piping, 
calling,  whistling  clear  in  shady  copse  and  leafy  grove. 

The  air  is  full  of  whirring  wings, 
As  if  a  thousand,  thousand  Springs 
Swept  earthward,  —  heavenly  whisperings 

Of  gladness  to  impart ; 
Oh,  list,  harmonious  music  rings! 
Each  bird  a  sweet  hosanna  sings, 
And  each  from  God  a  message  brings 

To  cheer  the  human  heart! 

I.  s.  T. 

Up  to  the  clouds  the  lark  has  sprung, 
Still  trilling  as  he  flies. 

OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES. 

The  sweetest  sound  our  whole  year  round  — 
'Tis  the  first  robin  of  the  spring! 

The  song  of  the  full  orchard  choir 
Is  not  so  fine  a  thing. 

EDMUND  C.    STEDMAN. 

O  blue-bird  up  in  the  maple-tree, 

Shaking  your  throat  with  such  bursts  of  glee 

How  did  you  happen  to  be  so  blue? 
Did  you  steal  a  bit  of  the  lake  for  your  crest, 
And  fasten  blue  violets  into  your  vest  ? 

Tell  me,  I  pray  you,  —  tell  me  true ! 

SUSAN   HARTLEY   SWETT. 


MAY   TENTH. 

SOME  of  our  sweetest  blessings  are  born  of  sorrow. 
If  your  heart  aches  to-day  over  some  grief  or  loss, 
and  the  world  looks  dark  and  cold  to  you,  look  up  to 
God,  and  be  warmed  and  comforted! 

They  tell  me  I  must  bruise 

The  rose's  leaf 
Ere  I  can  keep  and  use 

Its  fragrance  brief. 

They  tell  me  love  must  bleed 

And  friendship  weep, 
Ere  in  my  deepest  need 

I  touch  that  deep. 

Must  it  always  be  so 

With  precious  things? 
Must  they  be  bruised,  and  go 

With  beaten  wings  ? 

Ah,  yes!     By  crushing  days, 
By  caging  nights,  by  scar 

Of  thorn  and  stony  ways, 
These  blessings  are! 

SAMUEL  W.   DUFFIELD. 

It  is  said  that  gardeners,  sometimes,  when  they 
would  bring  a  rose  to  richer  flowering,  deprive  it  for  a 
season  of  light  and  moisture.  But  when  every  leaf  is 
dropped,  and  the  plant  stands  stripped  to  the  utter- 
most, a  new  life  is  even  then  working  in  the  buds, 
from  which  shall  spring  a  tender  foliage  and  a  brighter 
wealth  of  flowers.  So,  often  in  celestial  gardenings, 
every  leaf  of  earthly  joy  must  drop  before  a  new  and 
divine  bloom  visits  the  soul.  —  MRS.  H.  B.  STOWE. 
[137] 


L 


MAY   ELEVENTH. 
ET  the  good  seed  in  thy  heart  go  on  growing! 


The  words  which  thou  hast  utter'd 

Are  of  thy  soul  a  part, 
And  the  good  seed  thou  hast  scatter'd 

Is  springing  from  the  heart. 

JOHN   GREENLEAF  WHITTIER. 

Let  us  be  filled  with  right  aspirations,  looking  ever 
toward  Heaven,  our  final  goal,  and  toward  Christ,  our 
perfect  pattern.  Let  us  leave  behind  us  all  that  hin- 
ders our  progress  Godward.  Let  us  shut  the  doors  of 
our  hearts  on  covetousness,  envy,  and  all  such  things 
that  tend  to  drag  us  down ;  but  with  faith  in  the  Divine 
Life,  with  spiritual  strength,  and  unflinching  courage, 
let  us  grow  every  day  in  wisdom  and  knowledge  and 
mount  upward  towards  Heaven. 

Mount  up  on  high !  as  if  on  eagle's  wings, 
Catch  inspiration  from  the  arching  skies  ; 

The  soul  with  more  seraphic  music  sings, 
As  nearer  to  her  bright'ning  home  she  flies. 

EDWIN   H.    NEVIN. 

Oft  have  I  brooded  on  defeat  and  pain, 
The  pathos  of  the  stupid,  stumbling  throng. 
These  I  ignore  to -day,  and  only  long 
To  pour  my  soul  forth  in  one  trumpet  strain, 
One  dear,  grief-shattering,  triumphant  song. 
For  all  the  victories  of  man's  high  endeavor, 
Palm-bearing,  laurelled  deeds  that  live  forever, 
The  splendor  clothing  him  whose  will  is  strong. 

EMMA   LAZARUS. 
[138] 


MAY   TWELFTH. 

A  NYTHING  worth  having  is  worth  striving  for, 
•£*•  worth  waiting  for.  Suppose  the  gardener  did  not 
prune  his  roses,  but  allowed  them  to  grow  rank  and 
wild,  what  would  be  the  result  ?  They  would,  in  a  few 
years,  run  out,  and  die  of  neglect.  Suppose  you  neg- 
lected the  cultivation  of  your  mental  garden  or  field, 
will  any  good  grow  out  of  it  ?  Oh,  you  must  work  if  you 
would  have  anything  worth  having  !  No  matter  if  your 
pathway  is  dark,  and  you  think  your  seed  is  all  blighted, 
despair  not,  God  never  forgets,  and  His  recompense  is 
sure  to  come. 

What  matter  if  I  stand  alone? 

I  wait  with  joy  the  coming  years ! 
My  heart  shall  reap  where  it  has  sown, 

And  garner  up  its  fruit  of  tears. 

JOHN  BURROUGHS. 

There  is  a  day  of  sunny  rest 
For  every  dark  and  troubled  night ; 

And  grief  may  bide  an  evening  guest, 
But  joy  shall  come  with  early  light. 

WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Forever  from  the  hand  that  takes 
One  blessing  from  us,  others  fall ; 

And  soon  or  late,  our  Father  makes 
His  perfect  recompense  to  all ! 

JOHN  G.    WHITTIER. 

A  faith,  a  life  that  overcomes  — 

A  warfare  unto  victory. 
And  then,  reward! 

MRS.   HERRICK  JOHNSON. 
[139] 


MAY   THIRTEENTH. 

NOW  is  a  good  time  to  pull  up  the  weeds.  Begin 
this  very  morning,  and  don't  stop  until  your  heart 
is  free  from  everything  that  retards  the  growth  of  the 
flowers  of  peace  and  good-will  to  all  mankind.  Don't 
cherish  unkindly  feelings  towards  the  man  who  cheated 
you  yesterday ;  because  his  nature  is  small  and  mean, 
should  yours  be  revengeful  and  unforgiving  ?  Because 
your  rival  in  business  took  advantage  of  you  last  week, 
should  you  plan  to  take  advantage  of  him  next  week  ? 
Don't  allow  these  weeds  to  take  root  in  your  heart.  Let 
it  be  your  daily  prayer  that  you  may  overcome  all  temp- 
tations to  think  evil  thoughts  and  do  evil  deeds.  A  good 
question  to  ask  is,  "  What  would  Christ  have  done  ? " 

Flinch  not ;  faint  not ;  time  will  tell ; 
Heaven  keeps  its  reckoning  well. 

Faileth  heart  and  fadeth  hope, 
As  the  shadows  eastward  slope. 
Last  the  uproar  dies  away ; 
Then  like  music :  "  Only  they 
(God  in  wisdom  willed  it  so), 
Overcome,  that  undergo  ! " 

HARRY   LYMAN   KOOPMAN. 

"  Be  not  overcome  of  evil,  but  overcome  evil  with 
good." 

"  For  whatsoever  is  born  of  God  overcometh  the 
world ;  and  this  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the 
world,  even  our  faith." 

"  To  him  that  overcometh  will  I  grant  to  sit  with  Me 
in  My  throne,  even  as  I  also   overcome,  and  am  set 
down  with  My  Father  in  His  throne." 
[140] 


MAY   FOURTEENTH. 

LET  this  be  to  you  a  courageous  day.     Do  not  lose 
heart,  but  be  strong  to  endure  whatever  may  be 
given  you.     Remember  it  is  but  for  a  day,  and  if  you 
live  this  day  well,  you  will  be  better  prepared  to  face 
to-morrow. 

If  the  day's  brief  pain  and  passing  care 

Have  seemed  too  much  and  too  hard  to  bear ; 

If  under  its  trivial  press  and  smart, 

Thou  hast  failed  in  temper  and  lost  in  heart ; 

If  the  undiscouraged,  journeying  sun, 

As  it  sinks  to  its  rest  with  its  travail  done, 

Leaves  thee  all  spent  with  trouble  and  sorrow  — 

How  shalt  thou  face  the  harder  to-morrow  ? 

If  the  things  familiar  daunt  thee  so, 

How  shalt  thou  deal  with  an  unknown  woe? 

If  conquered  by  every  passing  dole, 

How  build  the  sinews  of  thy  soul  ? 

To  stand  and  shiver  on  the  brink 

Of  each  recurrent  task,  and  shrink, 

Will  never  harden  thee  to  abide 

The  waves  of  the  turbulent  Jordan  tide. 

So,  if  the  now  seems  cruel  and  hard, 
Endure  it  with  thoughts  of  the  afterward ; 
And  be  sure  that  each  task  that  is  clearly  set 
Is  to  brace  thee  for  other  tasks  harder  yet. 
Train  the  stout  muscles  of  thy  will 
In  the  daily  grapple  with  daily  ill, 
Till,  strong  to  wrestle  and  firm  to  abide, 
Thou  shalt  smile  at  the  turbulent  Jordan  tide. 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 
[141] 


MAY   FIFTEENTH. 

/CULTIVATE  a  taste  for  the  beautiful.  Train  your 
>-'  eye  to  distinguish  the  lovely  harmonies  in  nature ; 
get  into  the  spirit  of  the  season,  whatever  it  is,  and 
always  find  something  worth  seeing  and  remembering. 
Surely  God  never  meant  that  any  of  His  wonders 
should  be  overlooked ;  the  smallest  flower  that  blos- 
soms, the  tiniest  seed  that  sprouts,  is  His  handiwork. 
The  more  you  study  His  creations,  the  nearer  you 
should  be  drawn  to  Him.  No  matter  what  your  calling 
is,  get  as  near  to  the  heart  of  God  as  you  can  through 
it.  If  He  has  given  you  an  artist's  soul,  how  thankful 
you  should  be ;  then  you  are  indeed  blest,  because  you 
can  be  a  blessing  to  others.  If  you  can  put  on  canvas 
a  reflection  of  earth's  loveliness,  you  have  been  chosen 
by  your  Heavenly  Father  to  do  a  special  work  for  Him 
by  using  your  gift  for  His  glory. 

Immortal  Arts !  where'er  the  rounded  sky 
Bends  o'er  the  cradle  where  thy  dhildren  lie, 
Their  home  is  earth,  their  herald  every  tongue. 

OLIVER  WENDELL   HOLMES. 

Though  we  travel  the  world  over  to  find  the  beauti- 
ful, we  must  carry  it  with  us,  or  we  find  it  not.  The 
best  of  beauty  is  a  finer  charm  than  skill  in  surfaces, 
in  outlines,  or  rules  of  art  can  ever  teach ;  namely,  a 
radiation  from  the  work  of  art  of  human  character.  — • 

RALPH   WALDO   EMERSON. 

Still  shall  the  soul  around  it  call 
The  shadows  which  it  gathered  here, 

And,  painted  on  the  eternal  wall, 
The  Past  shall  re-appear. 

JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER. 


MAY   SIXTEENTH. 

WE  look  too  high  for  our  daily  needs ; 
God  trusts  them  not  to  the  faithless  air  — 
Our  truest  blessings  are  those  within 

Our  closest  reach,  and  are  everywhere. 
The  infinite  heavens  refuse  to  hear 

Our  cries,  and  the  silence  that  bids  retreat 
Should  send  us  back  with  humble  hearts 

To  our  own  good  world,  here,  under  our  feet. 

JULIA   H.    THAYER. 

We  are  ever  crying  out  for  something  beyond  us, 
while  we  walk  blindly  over  the  very  blessings  that  our 
neighbor  has  longed  for,  perhaps,  all  of  his  life.  We 
shut  our  eyes  to  the  glories  around  us,  or  strain  them 
to  see  so  far  beyond  that  nearer  things  are  lost  to  view. 

There  is  many  a  rest  in  the  road  of  life, 

If  we  would  only  stop  to  take  it, 
And  many  a  tone  for  the  better  land, 

If  the  querulous  heart  would  wake  it! 
To  the  sunny  soul  that  is  fall  of  hope, 

And  whose  beautiful  trust  ne'er  faileth, 
The  grass  is  green  and  the  flowers  are  bright, 

Though  the  wintry  storm  prevaileth. 

There  is  many  a  gem  in  the  path  of  life, 

Which  we  pass  in  our  idle  pleasure, 
That  is  richer  far  than  the  jewelled  crown, 

Or  the  miser's  hoarded  treasure. 
It  may  be  the  love  of  a  little  child, 

Or  a  mother's  prayers  to  Heaven, 
Or  only  a  beggar's  grateful  thanks 

For  a  cup  of  water  given. 

MRS.    M.    A.    KIDDER. 
[1433 


MAY    SEVENTEENTH. 

T  ET  us  keep  as  near  to  God  as  we  can,  thou  and  I. 
J — '  When  we  attempt  to  walk  alone,  we  stumble  and 
fall  ;  His  hand  is  strong  to  guide  and  uphold  us,  and 
there  are  no  dangers  through  which  He  cannot  safely 
lead  us.  Communion  with  Him  makes  us  purer  and 
truer,  and  better  in  our  daily  life.  He  is  always  the 
essential  part  of  our  life,  for  "  through  Him  we  live  and 
move  and  have  our  being." 

Closer  to  Thee!  Safe,  safe  in  Thee  to  hide, 
There  let  me  dwell,  whatever  may  betide ; 
No  other  strength  or  refuge  standeth  nigh  ; 
Thy  love  alone  can  every  need  supply. 

I.  s.  T 

Nearer  to  Thee  each  day 

I  fain  would  be. 
Be  Thou,  O  Lord,  my  way, 

And  lead  Thou  me. 

So  close  the  dawn  to  dark, 

Why  need  I  fear, 
If  I  Thy  voice  can  hark 

And  know  Thee  near? 

In  every  stormy  stress 

Be  Thou  my  stay. 
If  Thou  the  night  dost  bless, 

I  ask  not  day. 

When  I  to  doubt  would  yield, 

On  Thee  I  call. 
Thou  art  my  sun,  my  shield, 

My  life,  my  all. 

LUELLA    CLARK. 
[144] 


MAY   EIGHTEENTH. 

Y  stand  ye  here  ^  the  dayidle?"  In  the 

highest  sense  no  one  can  say  "  No  man  hired 
me."  Every  human  being  is  called  for  in  the  service 
of  the  man  Christ  Jesus.  Faith  is  service,  love  is  ser- 
vice, and  all  that  our  hands  find  to  do.  And  there  is 
much  for  our  hands  and  feet  to  do.  All  —  all  can  be  a 
service  to  Him.  And  until  we  realize  this  we  are  miss- 
ing the  joy  of  service.  —  MARGARET  BOTTOMS. 

Labor  is  life !     'Tis  the  still  water  faileth  ; 

Idleness  ever  despaireth,  bewaileth  ; 

Keep  the  watch  wound,  or  the  dark  rust  assaileth. 

FRANCES   S.    OSGOOD. 

To  refuse  the  work  God  gives  you  is  equal  to  a  denial 
of  Him.  If  you  do  not  obey  His  commands,  you  do 
not  recognize  Him  as  your  Master.  Will  a  faithful  ser- 
vant turn  a  deaf  ear  to  His  lord  ?  What  right  have  you 
to  a  place  in  the  Vineyard  if  you  are  idle  ?  God  does 
not  want  idlers,  He  wants  workers.  Seek  His  will  and 
obey  it :  let  there  be  daily,  loving  service  for  Him  of 
heart  and  hand.  Toil  will  be  sweet  if  done  for  Him. 

Give  me  within  the  work  which  calls  to-day, 
To  see  Thy  finger  gently  beckoning  on ; 

So  struggle  grows  to  freedom,  work  to  play, 
And  toils  begun  from  Thee  to  Thee  are  done. 

J.  F.  CLARKE. 

Thus  bravely  live  heroic  men, 

A  consecrated  band ; 
Life  is  to  them  a  battle-field, 

Their  hearts  a  holy  land. 

HENRY  T.    TUCKERMAN. 
AID  [145] 


MAY   NINETEENTH. 

LET  us  not  expect  a  blessing  until  we  have  asked 
for  it.     Let  us  begin  the  day  with  a  prayer,  and 
take  for  our  passport  three  little  words  that  will  appeal 
to  God  as  nothing  else  can :  —  In  His  Name ! 

What  powerful  gate-openers  to  Heaven  these  little 
words  are!  Let  us  write  them  on  the  tablets  of  our 
heart  and  carry  them  with  us  forever.  Methinks  in  the 
royal  courts  of  the  Celestial  Kingdom,  this  motto  must 
be  emblazoned  on  the  coat  of  arms  in  letters  of  gold. 

The  duty  nearest,  whatsoe'er  it  be  — 
So  He  appoint  it!     Let  this  be  our  aim, 

To  give  our  best  endeavor,  full  and  free, 
Forgetting  self — to  glory  in  His  Name! 

A  word  of  cheer,  when  hearts  are  tired  and  faint, 

The  lifting  of  a  burden  daily  borne, 
A  sweet  remembrance  of  a  soul's  complaint, 

A  turning  heavenward  weary  ones  who  mourn  ; 

The  lending  of  a  sympathy  to  reach 

Unspoken  sorrow,  grief,  or  mute  distress, 

A  smile,  that  oftentimes  transcendeth  speech, 
A  tear  of  pity,  sweet  with  tenderness. 

A  kindly  feeling  for  the  world  at  large, 
A  touch,  that  makes  of  strangers  kith  and  kin, 

A  true  fulfilment  of  the  Master's  charge, 
To  keep  His  kingdom  ev'ry  heart  within ; 

A  looking  earthward  through  the  Saviour's  eyes,  — 
Each  heart  with  gentle  charity  to  read  ; 

A  reaching  outward  where  His  Vineyard  lies  — 
Oh,  let  this  constitute  our  Christian  creed! 

IDA   SCOTT   TAYLOR. 
[146] 


MAY   TWENTIETH. 

EVEN  a  May-day  has  its  shadows.  Perhaps  the 
early  morning  gave  promise  of  calm  and  sunny 
skies,  but  clouds  arose  and  hid  all  the  brightness. 
But  can  you  not  look  on  and  see  the  results?  New 
flowers  will  blossom,  new  streams  be  flowing,  fresh 
grass  be  springing  and  twigs  sprouting.  Will  the 
earth  look  dark  and  gloomy  always  hereafter?  Ah, 
no!  she  will  be  the  better  for  it.  And  are  there 
clouds  in  your  sky  too?  Do  you  feel  as  if  it  were 
December  instead  of  May?  It  is  only  a  passing 
storm ;  don't  go  about  carrying  gloom  on  your  face 
and  despair  in  your  heart.  Doubtless  you  feel  as  if 
your  world  were  all  wrong  and  your  whole  life  a  mis- 
take—  not  a  bit  of  it!  It  will  all  come  right,  by  and 
by. 

If  we  never  saw  the  contrast  that  there  is  'tween  sun 

and  rain ; 
If  we  never  knew  the  difference  that  there  is  'tween  joy 

and  pain ; 

How  could  we  prize  the  beauty  of  a  sunlit  summer  day, 
Or  know  half  the  glowing  pleasure  of  an  hour  that's 

free  and  gay? 

MABEL  PERCY. 

It  is  easy  enough  to  be  pleasant 

When  life  flows  by  like  a  song, 
But  the  man  worth  while  is  the  one  who  will  smile 

When  everything  goes  dead  wrong ; 
For  the  test  of  the  heart  is  trouble, 

And  it  always  comes  with  the  years, 
And  the  smile  that  is  worth  the  praises  of  earth 
Is  the  smile  that  shines  through  tears. 

ELLA  WHEELER   WILCOX. 
[147] 


MAY   TWENTY-FIRST. 

AND  is  this  your  heart's  ambition,  —  to  obtain 
wealth,  just  for  the  sake  of  surrounding  yourself 
with  luxuries,  and  to  be  looked  up  to  and  honored  and 
called  rich  ?  Do  you  imagine  that  with  such  an  object 
in  view  you  will  ever  be  happy?  Do  you  believe 
God's  blessing  will  follow  you,  and  that  you  will  pos- 
sess the  inward  peace  and  quietness  that  alone  can 
bring  content?  If  you  have  a  love  for  the  beautiful, 
and  are  able  to  gratify  your  tastes,  make  your  home  as 
attractive  as  you  can,  but  don't  build  a  mansion  at  the 
expense  of  your  soul.  Don't,  let  me  entreat  you, 
don't  shut  your  heart  against  the  cry  of  the  poor  and 
suffering,  and  sit  down  in  selfish  ease  and  pretend  that 
you  are  enjoying  life.  You  know  better,  and  I  know 
better  —  God  knows  better.  What  are  riches  but  a 
gift  from  Him  ?  He  has  prospered  you ;  now  reach  out 
and  help  others,  and  thank  Him  for  the  sweet 
privilege. 

I  know  that  we  are  not  here 

For  our  selfish  ease ; 
The  kingliest  One  that  the  world  has  known 

Lived  not  Himself  to  please. 
And  they  who  have  learned  of  Him 

How  a  burden  can  give  rest, 
And  joyfully  share  the  great  human  care,  — 

They  have  learned  life's  secret  best. 

LUCY   LARCOM. 

Then  keep  your  gold,  but  leave  to  me 
The  soul  to  feel,  the  eyes  to  see. 
I  am  content.     By  right  divine 
The  wealth  of  all  the  world  is  mine. 

HELEN   G.    HAWTHORNE. 
[148] 


T 


MAY   TWENTY-SECOND. 

I  HE  great  world-clock  of  Time  still  keeps  its  beat. 

—  NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE. 


Do  you  realize  how  fast  time  is  flying?  We  have 
buried  our  Winter,  and  now  our  Spring-tide  is  fast 
drifting  out,  and  still  time  flies  on.  Look  back  over 
the  days  of  the  year.  How  much  you  have  to  be  sorry 
for  —  how  much  to  be  glad  for!  When  you  walk  out 
in  the  evening  under  the  street  lamps,  what  myriads 
of  little  insects  you  see  flying  around  in  the  circle  of 
the  light !  These  are  like  the  clustering  little  regrets 
that  hover  about  you  wherever  you  go ;  things  that 
make  you  sorry,  and  fill  you  with  longings  for  lost 
opportunities,  —  the  sad  "might  have  beens"  of  the 
year.  Oh,  for  a  chance  to  go  back  and  redeem  your- 
self !  —  this  is  your  cry ;  yet  why  grieve  over  it  now  ? 
Improve  the  present,  lest  it,  too,  rise  up  to  haunt  you 
in  coming  days. 

Who  looking  backward  from  his  manhood's  prime, 
Sees  not  the  spectre  of  his  misspent  time? 

JOHN   GREENLEAF   WHITTIER. 

Oh,  the  wasted  hours  of  life 

That  have  drifted  by  ; 
Oh,  the  good  we  might  have  done, 

Lost  without  a  sigh  ; 
Love  that  we  might  once  have  saved 

By  a  single  word ; 
Thoughts  conceived,  but  never  penned, 

Perishing  unheard. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Duty  and  To-day  are  ours :  results  and  futurity 
belong  to  God.  —  HORACE  GREELEY 


MAY   TWENTY-THIRD. 

DON'T  shift  all  the  responsibility  on  to  your  neigh- 
bor, and  when  you  are  listening  to  a  sermon  or 
a  lecture  don't  pick  out  some  one  you  think  it  may  fit, 
but  take  it  to  yourself.  How  full  of  faults  we  all  are ! 
Who  are  you,  who  am  I,  that  we  should  think  ourselves 
more  deserving  than  our  fellow-men?  How  do  we 
know  but  some  one  else  is  suiting  that  same  sermon  to 
us,  and  thinking  we  need  to  follow  its  teachings  ?  We 
forget  that  the  faults  we  fail  to  see  in  ourselves  are  so 
glaring  to  others.  Therefore,  let  us  examine  our  own 
hearts  and  see  that  they  are  right,  before  we  criticise 
or  condemn  our  neighbors. 

Then  who  am  I,  that  I  should  judge 

My  erring  brother  man? 
Oh,  should  I  seek  in  Self  alone  — 

Though  measuring  all  life's  span  — 
I  could  not  number  all  my  faults 

Nor  be  a  perfect  guide  ; 
Why  see  the  flaws  in  others,  that 

In  Self  I  cannot  hide? 

I.  S.  T. 


It  is  never  easy  to  grow  better.  We  have  the  im- 
pression that  a  few  petitions  breathed  up  to  God,  ask- 
ing Him  to  make  us  pure,  lovely,  and  gentle,  will  bring 
the  answer  in  some  mysterious  way,  working  the  change 
in  us  without  any  effort  or  struggle  of  our  own.  But  it 
is  not  thus  that  such  prayers  are  answered.  Every  day 
is,  in  a  certain  sense,  a  crucifixion,  a  nailing  of  self  on 
the  cross.  But  this  very  hardness  is  a  means  of  grace. 

—  J.    R.    MILLER. 

[ISO] 


MAY   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

IT  is  much  easier  to  toil,  though  we  grow  weak  and 
weary,  than  to  patiently  wait,  and  yet  there  are 
times  in  every  life  when  there  is  nothing  to  do  but 
wait.  Times  when  we  can  almost  hear  our  heart  beat, 
and  when  the  ticking  of  the  clock,  and  the  tolling  of 
the  hours  seem  an  Eternity.  It  may  be  through  sor- 
row, or  illness,  or  blindness,  or  old  age,  but  in  some 
way  the  lesson  of  patience  must  be  learned,  and  it  is 
through  waiting  oftener  than  through  working. 

'Twas  the  grain  of  patient  waiting 

That  was  wafted  to  my  ears, 
In  a  song  sublime  and  distant 

As  the  music  of  the  spheres  ; 

And  o'er  all  the  anthem  floated  — 

"  Patient  waiting  is  no  loss ! " 
And  it  seemed  to  cast  a  halo 

O'er  each  dark  and  heavy  cross ; 
And  methought  there  came  an  answer 

To  each  question  that  perplexed  : 
"  Ye  shall  know  it  all  hereafter, 

Not  in  this  world  —  but  the  next." 

Then  I  traced  the  mystic  letters 

Carved  upon  life's  iron  gate, 
At  whose  stern  command  we  murmur 

When  we  find  there  written,  Wait ! 
'Tis  alone  the  patient  waiters 

Who  the  blessing  will  receive ; 
They  who  through  all  doubt  and  trial, 

Calmly,  trustingly,  believe ! 

KATE   B.    W.    BARNES. 

[151] 


MAY   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

heed  how  ye  hear."  Inattention  causes  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  in  the  world,  and  perhaps 
this  text  was  given  to  us  that  we  might  be  better 
listeners.  There  is  much  to  be  heard,  and  there  are 
many  ways  in  which  to  hear  it,  therefore  we  should 
study  to  find  out  what  is  best  to  appropriate  to  our- 
selves. In  listening  to  a  lecture  or  a  sermon,  we  often 
take  away  with  us  the  remembrance  of  a  pleasing  inci- 
dent related,  rather  than  the  lesson  it  was  meant  to 
teach.  When  a  musical  discord  is  made,  we  allow  it 
to  mar  the  sweetness  of  the  whole  composition,  and 
yet  perhaps  there  was  but  one  false  chord  in  the  entire 
selection.  A  man  may  use  eloquent  language,  and 
delight  us  with  his  pleasing  manners,  but  let  him  make 
a  grammatical  error,  and  how  ready  we  are  to  hear  and 
remember  it.  Thus  we  are  too  attentive  listeners  to 
things  which  should  be  passed  by  and  forgotten.  On 
the  other  hand,  we  make  many  mistakes  for  the  simple 
reason  that  we  are  not  attentive  enough.  We  think 
we  have  heard  aright,  and  venture  to  repeat  it  to 
others,  when  in  reality  we  are  innocently  making  false 
statements,  because  we  were  careless  listeners.  Oh,  let 
us  take  heed  how  we  hear! 

Listen  well ;  —  but  not  to  idle  whispers ; 

Not  to  slanderous  words  that  bear  a  sting : 
Listen  well,  that  only  truthful  utterance 

Thou  mayest  give  to  every  little  thing. 
Hear  the  good  alone,  and  then  retain  it, 

Pass  the  evil,  let  the  wrong  go  by ; 
Cherish  only  thoughts  that  make  thee  better, 

Keep  the  truths  that  nevermore  shall  die. 

I.  S.  T. 


MAY  TWENTY-SIXTH. 

BELOVED,  is  it  well  ?  the  glorious  morning 
Rises  in  beauty  o'er  the  Eastern  skies, 
And  on  wings  of  love  in  the  still  dawning, 
My  thoughts  turn  towards  thee,  and  my  prayers  arise. 

MARY   G.  CROCKER. 

Is  it  well  with  you  to-day?  Is  there  a  sweet  spirit  of 
worship  in  your  heart  as  you  arise  this  morning  re- 
freshed from  sleep?  Is  there  a  deep  sense  of  gratitude 
in  your  whole  being  for  past  blessings  and  privileges, 
and  the  glorious  opportunity  of  the  present  ?  Is  it  well 
with  you  as  regards  your  household  circle?  Is  your 
heart  in  tune  with  Heaven  to-day?  Or  are  you  ready 
to  be  ruffled  by  a  word,  or  to  speak  or  act  unkindly 
towards  those  you  love  best?  If  so,  it  is  not  well  with 
you.  My  prayer  for  you  to-day  is,  that  you  may  be  in 
touch  with  nature  and  in  tune  with  God,  and  that  your 
heart  may  be  filled  with  the  gladness  of  the  morning, 
the  brightness  of  the  noon,  and  the  peace  of  the  even- 
tide. Then  when  your  guardian  angel  shall  question, 
"  Is  it  well  ? "  you  shall  hasten  to  reply,  "  Aye,  it  is 
well!" 

Then,  not  to  thee  alone  shall  be  the  break 

Of  fairer  dawns,  —  the  peace  that  follows  strife  — 

The  breath  of  love  and  gratitude  shall  make 
Such  sweetness  'round  thee  in  the  aisles  of  life, 

That,  some  bowed  soul,  low-pressed  by  grief  and  care, 
Shall  feel  its  deadened  pulses  wake  and  stir, 

Lift  its  sad  brow  to  greet  the  heavenly  air, 
And  rise,  a  free  and  joyous  worshipper! 

MARY  A.   P.   STANSBURY. 

[153] 


MAY   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

HOW  dark  would  the  world  be  to  our  hearts  this 
May  morning  without  Hope!  The  grain-fields 
would  be  meaningless  to  us  if  we  did  not  know  that 
hidden  away  in  their  green  blades  God  has  secreted 
the  little  kernels  that  will  ripen  into  golden  grain,  and 
feed  a  hungry  world.  The  tiny  plants  that  spring  up 
in  our  path  would  be  passed  by  unnoticed,  did  we  not 
read  in  them  a  promise  of  scent  and  blossom  by  and 
by.  HoW  could  we  endure  our  losses  and  crosses,  our 
disappointments  and  sorrows,  if  Hope  did  not  point 
to  a  brighter  to-morrow?  Courage,  Heart,  the  sun- 
shine of  Hope  will  drive  away  the  clouds  of  despair  — 
it  is  one  of  Heaven's  dearest  gifts  to  man. 

Races,  better  than  we,  have  leaned  on   her  wavering 

promise, 
Having  naught  else  but  Hope. 

HENRY  W.   LONGFELLOW. 

Storms  sometimes  round  me  gather,  and  my  fears 
Break  forth  in  mingled  sighs  and  bitter  tears, 
But  hope  sweeps  all  my  gloomy  fears  away 
And  turns  my  midnight  darkness  into  day ; 
Its  radiance  calms  and  soothes  my  ruffled  breast 
Till  through  me  spreads  the  quietness  of  rest. 

EDWIN  H.   NEVIN. 

Through  rift  unseen  some  swift-winged 
Ray  of  light  the  darkest  cloud  will  pierce  ;  and 
When  the  soul  its  deepest  anguish  feels,  there 
Comes  a  blessed  hope,  we  know  not  whence,  to 
Stay  the  tidal  flow,  and  the  tempest-tossed 
From  fatal  wreck  preserve. 

A.   A.   GOLEM  AN. 
[154] 


MAY   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

T^HE  world  has  many  unknown  heroes  —  those 
-*-  whose  history  will  never  be  written  on  earth,  and 
yet  whose  names  are  recorded  in  Heaven,  and  for  whom 
the  victor's  palm  and  crown  of  recompense  is  waiting. 
You  would  never  think  the  poor  and  sad-faced  woman 
you  met  on  the  street  yesterday  could  be  one  of  these, 
would  you  ?  Nor  the  little  boy  who  passes  your  win- 
dow every  day  —  he  surely  doesn't  look  like  a  hero, 
does  he?  Yet  perhaps  that  woman  is  bearing  sorrow 
that  you  would  faint  under,  and  that  boy  is  battling 
bravely  with  such  poverty  and  want  as  would  drive  you 
to  despair.  It  is  the  heroic  soul  that  stands  out  clear 
and  bright  in  such  dark  surroundings  as  these.  Christ 
was  a  hero:  the  greatest  Conqueror  that  ever  lived. 
Yet  His  kingly  presence  was  not  honored,  save  by  the 
Star  from  Heaven  which  shone  across  the  lowly  town 
of  Bethlehem. 


The  man  who  braves  the  world's  neglect  and  scorn, 
To  lift  the  lowly,  succor  the  forlorn, 
Who  conquers  self —  he  is  the  hero  born. 

FRANCES  A.   SHAW. 

Whate'er  our  prizes,  or  how  fair  our  crown, 

How  deep  our  losses,  only  this  is  blest, 
The  soul's  great  peace.     Nor  sneer,  nor  smile,  nor  frown 

Can  shake  it  from  its  rest. 
Exalt  thy  calling!  on  its  spotless  shield 

Write  truth,  write  honor,  valor,  first  and  last. 
Cravens  may  clutch  their  stars,  and  thou  not  yield ; 

Love  them  and  hold  them  fast! 

MARY  CLEMMER   AMES. 
[155] 


MAY   TWENTY-NINTH. 

IS  life  worth  living? 
Yes,  I  answer,  if  you  have  learned  how  to  live  it. 
To  the  coward  who  shrinks  from  duty,  the  weak  who 
cowers  before  temptation,  the  doubter  who  will  not 
wear  shields  of  faith,  the  despairing  who  cries  out 
against  hope,  and  the  hypocrite  who  calls  truth  a 
mockery,  —  to  all  of  these,  life  is  not  worth  living. 
But  to  him  who  has  learned  the  true  secret  of  life,  its 
very  trials  are  sweetened,  and  he  accounts  it  a  blessing 
to  live  for  God  and  his  fellow-men.  An  unselfish  man 
in  his  right  mind  will  not  take  his  own  life.  It  is 
only  he  who  is  ovenvhelmed  with  his  own  burdens 
and  perplexities  and  miseries  who  will  commit  such  a 
crime :  if  he  were  truly  unselfish,  he  would  think  of 
the  sorrow  it  would  bring  to  those  who  love  him,  and 
of  the  influence  it  will  have  over  mankind. 

"  Is  Life  worth  living  ?  "  asks  the  cynic  grim  ; 

Yes,  Life  is  Heaven,  the  ardent  youth  replies. 
And  Heaven  is  Life,  responds  the  Christian  wise, 

Who  sees  in  all  things  but  the  love  of  Him 
Whose  goodness  hath  created  earth  and  skies,  — 

Life,  —  Death,  Eternity,  —  and  given  us  power 
To  make  some  worthy  record  every  hour ; 

Some  humble  word,  some  deed  of  high  emprise, 
Like  rich  man's  offering,  or  widow's  mite,  — 
Made  by  pure  motive  equal  in  His  sight. 
These  make  our  life  worth  living,  and  our  death 

Merely  a  ceasing  of  the  mortal  breath, 
Life's  treasure-chest  iron-bound  by  grief  may  be ! 

Yet  holds  of  Immortality  the  key. 

JULIA  A.    F.    CARNEY. 
[156] 


W 


MAY   THIRTIETH. 
DECORATION  DAY. 

In  loving  remembrance  of  "the  brave  and  true" 

HAT  patriotic  heart  will  not  be  stirred  by  the 
sound  of  drum  and  fife  to-day?  How  gladly 
the  American  people  observe  this  day  as  a  sacred  holi- 
day year  by  year,  taking  time  from  business  and 
pleasure  to  strew  with  loyal,  loving  hands  the  graves 
of  our  nation's  heroes.  Scattered  from  north  to  south 
they  lie,  some  bearing  no  name  to  tell  us  who  they 
are,  but  the  Recording  Angel  knows  them  all,  and 
not  one  is  missing  from  the  Book  of  Heaven.  The 
broken  ranks  shall  once  more  bend  above  their  com- 
rades1 graves  and  all  lay  their  precious  offerings  there, 
but  sweeter  than  the  flowers  they  bring  will  be  the 
heart-felt,  silent  tear  that  springs  unbidden  to  the  eye. 
Sleep  well,  O  brave  and  noble  ones ! 

From  garden,  field  and  dell, 

Bring  sweetest  flowers  of  May, 
With  prayer  and  solemn  anthem  swell ; 

A  nation  speaks  to-day. 

BELLE  G.   McAULEY. 

Come  we  then  to-day,  O  brothers! 

Treading  softly  on  the  sod, 
In  the  presence  of  the  fallen, 

In  the  sunshine  of  our  God, 
Come  with  tributes  of  affection 

For  the  heroes  sleeping  here, 
Sweetly  lay  the  fragrant  flower, 

Kindly  drop  a  brother's  tear. 

j.  H.  MCCARTY,  D.D. 
[157] 


MAY   THIRTY-FIRST. 

AH,  soon  it  will  be  Spring  no  longer,  and  the 
sweet-voiced  May,  with  her  crown  of  flowers, 
will  have  vanished  into  the  silent  past.  Let  us  wan- 
der into  the  fields,  with  Fancy  for  our  guide  :  how  glad 
the  earth  is!  It  is  delicious  to  breathe  the  pure,  free 
air,  and  ramble  carelessly  at  will. 

The  City's  great  heart  has  a  thousand  full  veins, 
And  it  throbs  with  a  strength  all  unknown ; 

But  the  Fields   with   their  harpers  full-feathered  in 

gold, 
Have  a  thousand  full  hearts  of  their  own. 

W.   F.   W.   BARBE. 

The  green  trees  arch  their  branches  overhead, 

Idly  I  gaze  up  thro1  their  rustling  leaves 

And  watch  the  golden  sunlight  shifting  through. 

I  and  this  strange  old  world  are  best  of  friends. 

I  have  forgotten  all  her  cruel  wrongs, 

The  blows  that  she  has  dealt,  and  will  again. 

All  that  life  holds,  I  have.     Who  can  have  more? 

To-day  is  mine  —  one  royal,  golden  day, 

Filled  full  of  restfulness  and  sweet  content. 

I  will  forget  to-morrow  and  its  care ; 

I  have  to-day.     What  more  has  any  one? 

FLORENCE  AUGUSTA  JONES. 

Well,  I  will  live  to-day 

As  though  it  were  my  last. 
And  meet,  without  complaint,  what  comes, 

Let  it  be  balm  or  blast. 

ANONYMOUS. 


BAYARD    TATLOR 

1825-1878 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF  JUNE- 


JUNE   FIRST. 

T 
J 


"  TUNE,  lovely  June,  now  beautifies  the  ground,"  and 
smiles  on  earth  and  sky.  There  is  no  nook  so 
deeply  hidden  but  feels  the  warmth  of  her  welcome 
presence,  and  no  brook  or  stream  too  small  to  reflect 
her  image.  O  rare  sweet  June,  our  hearts  grow  lighter 
because  of  thy  coming!  and  lift  grateful  hearts  to 
Heaven  that  earth  is  made  so  wondrous  fair  for  us.  It 
is  the  time  of  strawberries.  Every  day  they  are  ripen- 
ing and  sweetening  under  their  sheltering  green  leaves, 
getting  ready  for  fruition  by  and  by.  We  cannot  see 
how  it  is  done  :  it  is  silent,  hidden  work,  one  of  God's 
beautiful  mysteries.  Oh,  you  who  are  still  wrapping 
your  hearts  in  the  snows  of  doubt  that  belong  to  a 
buried  past,  awake  and  stand  forth  arrayed  in  the 
warmth  and  newness  of  June  to-day. 

Now  it  is  June  ;  and  the  secret  is  told  : 
Flashed  from  the  buttercup's  glory  of  gold, 
Hummed  from  the  bumblebee's  gladness,  and  sung 
New  from  each  bough  where  a  bird's-nest  is  swung  ; 
Breathed  from  the  clover-beds  when  the  winds  pass, 
Chirped  in  small  psalms  through  the  aisles  of  the  grass. 

ADELINE  D.    T.    WHITNEY. 

Let  your  heart  take  on  new  color,  —  the  rosy  hue  of 
hope  and  love,  and  begin  to  sweeten  and  ripen  and 
grow  better  every  day,  so  that  the  real  June  may 
blossom  in  you  and  give  out  roses  of  rare  fragrance. 

[iS9] 


JUNE  SECOND. 

*"pHIS  is  called  the  "month   of  roses,"  —  red  and 
J-    white,  and  pink  and  yellow,  how  they  blossom 
everywhere! 

Oh,  roses,  roses !    Who  shall  sing 

The  beauty  of  the  flowers  of  God ! 

Or  thank  the  angel  from  whose  wing 

The  seeds  are  scattered  on  the  sod 

From  which  such  bloom  and  perfume  spring! 

J.   G.   HOLLAND. 

And  roses,  roses  everywhere, 
Perfume  the  paths  we  tread ; 

And  June  is  smiling  sweet  and  fair 
In  beauty  overhead. 

I.  s.  T. 

I  am  the  one  rich  thing  that  morn 
Leaves  for  the  ardent  noon  to  win ; 

Grasp  me  not,  I  have  a  thorn, 
But  bend  and  take  my  fragrance  in. 

The  dew-drop  on  my  bosom  gives 
The  whole  of  Heaven  to  searching  eyes : 

Only  he  who  sees  it,  lives, 
And  only  he  who  slights  it,  dies. 

Petal  on  petal  opening  wide, 

My  being  into  beauty  flows  — 
Hundred-leaved  and  damask-dyed  — 

Yet  nothing,  nothing  but  a  rose. 

HARRIET   PRESCOTT  SPOFFORD. 
[160] 


JUNE  THIRD. 

rTX)  those  that  believe,  there  is  always  something 
-•-    beautiful  beyond! 

Upon  the  shoulders  of  the  past  we  stand, 
And  to  the  future  turn  our  questioning  eyes. 
What  doth  she  hold  in  store,  what  precious  prize, 

That  we  may  wrest  from  out  her  close-shut  hand? 

No  fear  of  failure  past  hath  power  to  sway 
The  hope  that  springs  eternal  in  the  breast, 
But    towards   fresh   heights   whose   limits  are  un- 
guessed 

We  press,  undaunted  still,  our  upward  way. 

Faith  from  her  watch-tower  sees  the  distant  peaks 

Already  scaled,  sees  every  outpost  fall. 

Who  will  may  conquer.     God  is  over  all, 
And  gives  good  gifts  to  every  one  who  seeks. 

ELIZABETH   FLINT  WADE. 

Hope  sings  a  sweet  song  in  our  hearts  to-day,  whose 
tender  refrain  is,  something  beyond :  can  you  not  hear 
it,  dear  friend,  as  it  goes  ringing  through  the  skies  and 
across  the  uplands,  and  down  the  valleys  ? 

Something  beyond!     Though  now,  with  joy  unfound, 
The  life-task  falleth  from  thy  weary  hand, 

Be  brave,  be  patient!  in  the  fair  Beyond 
Thou'lt  understand. 

Something  beyond!  the  immortal  morning  stands 
Above  the  night ;  clear  shines  her  prescient  brow ; 

The  pendulous  star  in  her  transfigured  hands 
Brighten  the  Now. 

MARY   CLEMMER   AMES. 
All  [l6l] 


JUNE  FOURTH. 

A  MAN'S  wisdom  maketh  his  face  to  shine  and  the 
boldness  of  his  face  shall  be  changed. —  ECCLESI- 
ASTES  8:i. 


Thus  a  little  change  in  our  English  translation  brings 
out  the  better  meaning  of  the  text,  which  sets  forth 
that  the  character  of  the  face  is  decided  by  the  charac- 
ter of  the  soul.  The  main  features  of  our  countenance 
were  decided  by  the  Almighty,  and  we  cannot  change 
them ;  but  under  God  we  decide  whether  we  shall  have 
countenances  benignant  or  baleful,  sour  or  sweet,  wrath- 
ful or  genial,  benevolent  or  mean,  honest  or  scoundrelly, 
imprudent  or  modest,  courageous  or  cowardly. — 
Religion  says  :  Now  let  me  go  up  to  the  windows  and 
front  gate  of  the  face  and  set  up  some  signal  that  I 
have  taken  possession  of  this  castle.  I  have  made  this 
man  happy,  and  now  I  will  make  him  look  happy.  —  I 
will  make  his  eyes  flash  and  his  cheeks  glow  at  every 
mention  of  Christ  and  Heaven.  I  will  make  even  the 
wrinkles  of  his  face  look  like  furrows  ploughed  for  the 
harvests  of  joy. —  T.  DE  WITT  TALMAGE. 

Thine  are  our  souls !     Our  beings  blend  with  Thine, 
Upreaching  toward  Thee  through  these  longings  high, 
Stamped  with  Thy  seal,  and  bearing  countersign 
Of  that  One  Life  in  us,  that  grows  divine, 
By  Love  illumined,  as  we  to  Thee  draw  nigh ! 

CAROLINE  DANA   HOWE. 

If  wrinkles  must  be  written  on  our  brows,  let  them 
be  not  written  on  the  heart.  The  spirit  should  never 

grow  old.  — JAMES  A.    GARFIELD. 

[162] 


JUNE   FIFTH. 

IF  we  only  had  better  control  of  Self,  how  much 
trouble  we  should  save!  As  it  is,  we  are  continu- 
ally saying  and  doing  the  very  things  that  hurt  ourselves 
and  others.  The  human  will  is  stubborn ;  it  likes  to 
govern  rather  than  to  be  governed,  and  is  not  easily 
brought  under  subjection.  We  do  not  intend  to  get 
angry  over  a  trifle ;  we  do  not  intend  to  neglect  our 
duty ;  we  do  not  intend  to  make  others  unhappy,  or  to 
sow  seeds  of  discord  in  some  one's  heart-garden.  Then 
why  do  we  do  it?  Just  because  we  do  not  curb  Self  in 
us,  and  subdue  it ;  just  because  Will  likes  to  have  its 
own  way,  and  because  we  lack  strength  of  character  to 
master  it. 

And  yet  it  was  not  in  my  heart  to  sow 

111  seeds,  nor  yet  to  live  a  selfish  life ; 
Only  I  lacked  the  stern  resolve,  to  throw 

Man's  fullest  energy  into  the  strife. 
Nor  lacked  alone  the  earnest  will, 
Perhaps  as  well  the  kindly  thought, 
Which  leads  some  gentle  souls  unconsciously  to  fill 

Life  with  sweet  charities  and  noble  deeds. 

Now,  like  a  garden  full  of  barren  weeds, 
My  heart  lies  desolate ;  I  know 

That  ill  is  wrought 
By  not  intending  good,  through  weakness  of  the  will. 

ESTHER   THORNE. 

Come,  thou  whole  Self  of  Latter  Man! 
Come  o'er  thy  realm  of  Good-and-Ill, 

And  do,  thou  Self  that  say'st  I  can, 
And  love,  thou  Self  that  say'st  I  will. 

SIDNEY   LANIER. 


JUNE   SIXTH. 

/^RATITUDE  is  the  fairest  blossom  which  springs 
^-J  from  the  soul ;  and  the  heart  of  man  knoweth 
none  more  fragrant.  —  HOSEA  BALLOU. 

Oh,  let  your  heart  overflow  in  praise  to  God  to-day! 
See  what  He  has  given  you,  —  what  glory  of  earth,  and 
sea  and  sky,  and  what  opportunities  for  mind  and 
soul!  Your  whole  being  ought  to  be  thrilling  with 
praise  every  moment;  you  have  had  enough  joy  in 
your  cup  to  keep  you  singing  forever;  you  have  had 
uplifting  opportunities  in  your  life  to  carry  you  to  the 
very  gate  of  Heaven.  Climb  nearer  to  God  through 
joy  and  gratitude. 

Just  for  to-day  may  I  not  sing 

For  gratitude  alone, 
Nor  interrupt  my  praise  to  bring 

Petitions  to  the  throne? 

Just  for  to-day  may  I  not  eat 

From  yesterday's  full  store  ? 
While  gathered  manna  still  is  sweet, 

Shall  I  entreat  for  more, 

Like  a  base  mendicant  who  stands 

Importunate  to  grasp, 
Though  God  has  poured  within  his  hands 

More  than  his  palms  can  clasp? 

Accept,  O  God,  and  Friend  of  friends, 

My  chalice,  poor  and  rude, 
Wherein  one  strong  petition  blends  — 

Grant  me  more  gratitude! 

MAY   RILEY   SMITH. 
[164] 


JUNE   SEVENTH. 

WE  are  safe  in  God's  hands.  He  holds  us,  and 
keeps  us,  and  strengthens  us,  and  if  we  trust 
Him  at  all  times,  we  need  not  fear  life's  storms  or 
shadows.  With  Him  it  is  always  sunshine.  The 
Christian,  God  says,  "shall  be  like  a  tree  planted  by 
the  rivers  of  water,  that  bringeth  forth  his  fruit  in 
season ;  his  leaf  shall  not  wither ;  and  whatsoever  he 
doeth  shall  prosper." 

The  wind  that  blows  can  never  kill 

The  tree  God  plants  ; 
It  bloweth  east ;  it  bloweth  west ; 
The  tender  leaves  have  little  rest, 
But  any  wind  that  blows  is  best. 

LILLIE   E.    BARR. 

Whatever  our  position  may  be,  let  us  not  murmur 
or  complain.  If  our  prayers  are  not  answered  as  we 
want  them,  or  even  if  not  answered  at  all,  let  us  feel 
that  God's  love  was  in  the  denial.  Sometimes  we  ask 
for  the  wrong  thing :  He  always  knows  best. 

If  God  sees  best,  I  ask  it  not 

By  word  of  mouth.     My  heart  breathes  out 

Its  wish  to  Him  who  knows  it  well. 

The  longing  is  so  full  of  bliss, 

That  if  He  granted  it,  I  fear 

'Twould  make  a  heaven  on  earth  for  me ; 

And  so  I  leave  it  all  unsaid, 

Just  asking  Him  to  give  me  still 

What  He  thinks  best  of  joy  or  grief. 

NELLIE  G.   RICE. 

[165] 


JUNE  EIGHTH. 

JUNE  is  the  dreamy  time ;  one  feels  little  like  mak- 
ing an  effort.  It  is  so  delightful  to  listen  to  the 
breezy  murmurings  through  the  tree-tops,  and  rippling 
along  the  grain-fields,  or  billowing  the  meadows  sweet 
with  scented  clover.  To  get  out  of  the  city,  and  into 
the  pure  freedom  of  the  open  air,  and  breathe  in 
draughts  of  freshness  from  country  lanes  and  wood- 
lands—  ah,  how  restful  it  is!  But  do  not  be  entirely 
idle,  even  amidst  such  innocent  pleasures  as  these. 
There  are  Heaven-sent  opportunities  to  do  somebody 
good,  no  matter  when,  no  matter  where.  You  will 
enjoy  your  holiday  all  the  more,  if  you  know  you  are 
making  some  heart  happy  as  you  pass  along,  or  giving 
only  "a  cup  of  cold  water  "  for  Christ's  sake. 


Two  butterflies  of  beauteous  wing, 
Above  the  flowers  soft  fluttering, 
Questioned  if  any  really  knew 
That  in  the  blossoms  honey  grew. 

The  while  they  raised  their  doubting  word 
There  came  a  brilliant  humming-bird, 
And  dipping  in  a  flower-cup, 
He  drew  the  precious  nectar  up. 

O  fools  and  slow  of  heart !  to  stay, 
Quibbling  the  fleeting  time  away, 
When  earnest,  wise  research  forsooth 
Would  soon  reveal  the  blessed  truth. 

F.   B.    GRISWOLD. 


[166] 


JUNE  NINTH. 

ALL  round  the  year  the  trusting  soul 
May  find  the  word  of  promise  whole ; 
The  flight  of  time,  unknown  above, 
Breaks  not  our  Father's  boundless  love. 
Unbroken  be  the  tranquil  light 
That  folds  our  lesser  sphere, 
As  ever  pure,  and  calm,  and  bright 
All  round  the  year. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Yes,  "  all  round  the  year  "  runs  the  sweet  promise  of 
God's  love,  and  His  light  encircles  us  through  every 
changing  season.  How  faithful  He  is  ;  how  steadfast! 
If  we  walk  with  Him  to-day,  we  know  that  He  will  be 
just  as  ready  to  resume  the  journey  to-morrow  ;  earthly 
friends  tire  of  us  —  we  sometimes  tire  of  them,  but  God 
never  tires  of  His  beloved.  We  find  our  earthly  friends 
who  are  willing  to  devote  the  present  to  us,  planning 
to  do  something  else  in  the  future :  and  we  must  be 
set  aside.  But  God  never  sets  us  aside ;  He  never 
plans  a  day  without  us.  It  is  comforting  to  know  that 
the  love  of  God  reaches,  not  only  "  all  round  the  year," 
but  all  round  the  endless  measure  of  years  —  round 
Infinity  itself. 


Amid  earth's  changes,  Lord, 

Its  shadows  and  its  fears, 
Its  broken  pledges,  shattered  plans, 

Its  sorrow  and  its  tears, 
Thy  children  trust  Thy  own  sure  word, 

And  wait  the  eternal  years. 

MARGARET  E.   SANGSTER. 


JUNE   TENTH. 

HE  is  a  poet  strong  and  true 
Who  loves  wild  thyme  and  honey-dew ; 
And  like  a  brown  bee  works  and  sings, 
With  morning  freshness  on  his  wings, 
And  a  gold  burden  on  his  thighs, — 
The  pollen-dust  of  centuries ! 

MAURICE  THOMPSON. 


Oh,  I  hope  you  have  the  "  morning  freshness  on  your 
wings,"  and  that  you  are  working  and  singing  each  day 
to  some  purpose.  I  hope  you  are  making  the  earth 
glad  with  your  music,  and  that  your  gift  may  be  a 
precious  inheritance  to  you.  Suppose  our  Redeemer 
had  only  healed  a  chosen  number;  suppose  He  had 
only  forgiven  those  He  knew  and  loved  best ;  suppose 
He  had  only  ministered  to  the  cultured  and  refined! 
Be  not  ashamed,  and  feel  it  no  condescension  to  use 
the  best  you  have  for  the  hungering,  thirsting,  "  com- 
mon-place "  throng.  To  such  the  Master  came,  with 
loving  smile,  with  gentle  touch,  and  kindly  words. 


If  humble  men  may  pause,  to  heed 

The  transient  fragrance  of  these  flowers ; 
If  those  who  toil  may  pause  to  read, 

And  find  a  rest  in  weary  hours, 
It  is  enough ;  no  more  I  ask. 

Since  Fancy's  dream,  or  earnest  thought, 
Have  cheered  the  toiler  at  his  task, 

I  have  attained  the  good  I  sought. 

JANE  MARIA  READ. 
[168] 


JUNE   ELEVENTH. 

RUGGED  strength  and  radiant  beauty  — 
These  were  one  in  nature's  plan ; 
Humble  toil  and  heavenward  duty  — 
These  will  form  the  perfect  man. 

SARAH  J.    HALE. 

Heavenward  duty!  God  grant  you  may  realize  what 
this  means.  Not  the  seeking  of  your  own  pleasure, 
and  making  it  a  duty  to  follow  your  own  inclinations, 
but  bending  your  will  to  God's,  and  doing  each  task  in 
loving  obedience  to  Him.  Do  not  falter  or  be  dis- 
couraged ;  there  is  a  glory  in  victory ;  press  forward 
with  renewed  strength,  and  inscribe  on  your  shield  of 
faith  the  one  word  "  Heavenward." 

Stepping  Heavenward,  Lord,  am  I, 

As  the  days  go  flitting  by? 

Daisied  fields  of  youth  are  round  me, 

Cloudless  is  the  blue  o'erhead, 
But  I  ponder  as  I  wander, 

Whither  goes  the  path  I  tread  ? 
It  must  lead  me,  lead  me  ever 

Toward  some  goal,  though  distant  far, 
Onward,  'neath  the  sun  of  morning, 

Onward,  'neath  the  evening  star, 
Wisely  let  me  choose  my  way, 
Stepping  Heavenward,  day  by  day. 

ANNA  R.    HENDERSON. 

Ah,  what  a  life  is  theirs  who  live  in  Christ ; 

How  vast  the  mystery! 
Reaching  in  height  to  Heaven,  and  in  its  depth 

The  unfathomed  sea. 

ELIZABETH   PRENTISS. 
[169] 


JUNE  TWELFTH. 

WE  are  like  children  in  our  poor  unreason, 
As  we  reach  after  joys 
That  at  the  best  can  please  but  for  a  season, 
And  then  are  broken  toys. 

ELLA   WHEELER   WILCOX. 


We  are  creatures  of  moods  —  one  thing  to-day, 
another  to-morrow.  Circumstances  change  our  opin- 
ions ;  our  own  physical,  mental,  and  spiritual  state 
influences  us  to  act  differently  at  various  times :  often 
we  are  full  of  fancies  and  give  ourselves  up  to  the 
indulgence  of  them.  Sometimes  we  are  petulant  and 
irritable,  sometimes  fitful  as  an  April  day,  and  oh, 
sometimes  we  grow  heart-sick  and  discouraged  over  a 
trivial  event,  and  lose  the  sweet  music  that  God's  love 
is  singing  in  every  trusting  soul.  But  this  is  all 
because  of  our  humanity.  We  are  expected  to  master 
the  evil  in  our  natures,  and  to  continually  make  the 
good  better :  let  us,  therefore,  not  allow  our  moods  to 
lead  us  into  error,  but  if  they  are  fitful  and  gusty,  like 
April  weather,  let  us  calm  their  storms  into  sunny 
quietude,  like  unto  a  day  in  June. 

We  are  as  God  has  made  us.    Gladness,  pain, 
Delight  and  death,  and  moods  of  bliss  or  bane, 
With  love,  and  hate,  or  good,  and  evil  —  all, 
At  separate  times,  in  separate  accents  call ; 
Yet  'tis  the  same  heart-throb  within  the  breast 
That  gives  an  impulse  to  our  worst  and  best. 
I  doubt  not  when  our  earthly  cries  are  ended, 
The  Listener  finds  them  in  one  music  blended. 

GEORGE  PARSONS  LATHROP. 
[170] 


O 


JUNE   THIRTEENTH. 

LITTLE  clouds!  how  swift 
Ye  sail  across  the  blue, 
To  let  the  sunshine  thro\ 

FANNY   H.    R.   POOLE. 


Let  us  spend  a  little  season  together  with  the  clouds, 
these  wonderful,  beautiful  airy  wings  that  fly  across  the 
ocean  of  the  sky.  They  often  remind  me  of  various 
people  we  meet  in  our  every-day  life.  Some  of  them 
wander  aimlessly  about,  at  times  almost  touching  the 
gossamer  whiteness  of  their  neighbors,  and  then  drift- 
ing on  and  on  alone :  so  near  they  seem  to  ship  with 
others,  they  meet  on  common  ground,  or  rather  in 
common  air,  yet  they  steadily  sail  on,  aimlessly,  self- 
ishly alone.  Oh,  are  there  not  human  beings  like 
these,  who  almost  get  into  touch  with  humanity,  and 
then  turn  and  go  on,  without  the  loving  word,  and 
friendly  smile  that  is  born  of  tender  sympathy?  O 
selfish  ones,  O  blind !  it  is  the  bond  of  fellowship  that 
brings  us  nearer  God ;  it  is,  first  of  all,  the  love  of  God 
that  makes  us  love  each  other. 


Kinship  of  souls,  how  sweet  it  is! 
To  live  our  little  lives  each  day 
That  other  lives  may  touch  our  own, 
And  be  the  better  for  it :  aye, 
And  more  than  this  ;  we  gain  new  strength, 
New  courage  too,  our  souls  are  blest 
And  broadened  out  by  fellowship, 
Humanity  and  sympathy ! 

I.  S.  T. 

[171] 


JUNE   FOURTEENTH. 

GROWTH  is  the  law  in  the  world  of  grace  as  well 
as  in  the  world  of  nature.  God  does  not  bring 
things  into  the  world  in  full-fledged  maturity.  The 
seed  dropped  into  the  earth  in  springtime  illustrates 
the  usual  way.  It  is  first  the  blade,  then  the  ear,  and 
then  the  full,  ripe  corn  in  the  ear.  First  the  child, 
then  the  youth,  then  the  man.  The  ancients  claim 
that  Minerva  sprang  full-grown,  full-armed,  from  the 
head  of  Jove ;  but  that  isn't  the  history  of  either  the 
intellectual,  or  the  spiritual  life  of  man.  Here  is  Paul's 
way  of  putting  it :  —  "  We  beseech  you,  brethren,  that 
ye  increase  more  and  more."  "  Let  us  go  on  unto  per- 
fection." Christian  life  is  progress,  growth,  "addi- 
tion."—  J.  C.  McCLINTOCK,  D.D. 


I  pray  you,  friendly  ones,  for  room  to  grow, 
Though  small  the  beauty  there  may  be  for  showing 

And  if  no  simple  child  or  burdened  soul 
May  find  the  floweret  fair  beyond  my  knowing, 

Perchance  the  Lord  who  planted  every  seed 
May  smile  to  see  the  folded  blossoms  growing. 

MINNIE  D.   BATEHAM. 


Up  and  onward!  toward  the  East, 

Green  oases  thou  shalt  find,  — 
Streams  that  rise  from  higher  sources 

Than  the  pools  thou  leavest  behind ; 
Life  has  import  more  inspiring 

Than  the  fancies  of  thy  youth ; 
It  has  hopes  as  high  as  Heaven, 

It  has  labor,  it  has  truth. 

ANNE   CHARLOTTE   LYNCH. 
[172] 


JUNE   FIFTEENTH. 

WE  learn  many  lessons  through  dear  experience. 
No  one  can  tell  us  what  to  do,  or  what  not 
to  do ;  we  will  not  listen,  we  must  try  for  ourselves. 
How  often  we  sigh  and  shed  bitter  tears  because  we  have 
refused  the  advice  of  those  older  and  wiser  than  our- 
selves. The  sins  of  omission  and  commission  rise  up 
to  haunt  us,  even  in  the  perfect  beauty  of  a  June  day. 
When  too  late,  we  look  back  and  cry,  "  Alas !  why  was 
I  not  more  thoughtful,  more  helpful,  more  unselfish?" 


What  is  so  hard  in  all  the  bitter  years, 
As  to  look  back  and  see  the  closed  gate 
That  one  dear  day  we  might  have  opened.     Fate 

Wrings  from  our  eyes  the  saddest,  saltest  tears, 
O'er  wisdom  won  too  late. 

CARLOTTA   PERRY. 


Ah !  woe  for  the  word  that  is  never  said 

Till  the  ear  is  deaf  to  hear, 
And  woe  for  the  lack  to  the  fainting  head 

Of  the  ringing  shout  of  cheer ; 
Ah!  woe  for  the  laggard  feet  that  tread 

In  the  mournful  wake  of  the  bier. 

For  baffling  most  in  this  dreary  world, 
With  its  tangles  small  and  great, 

Its  lonesome  nights  and  its  weary  days, 
And  its  struggles  forlorn  with  fate, 

Is  that  bitterest  grief,  too  deep  for  tears, 
Of  the  help  that  comes  too  late. 

MARGARET  E.   SANGSTER. 
[173] 


JUNE   SIXTEENTH. 

THIS  age  is  an  age  of  progress:  we  are  moving 
forward  in  every  line  of  thought  and  action. 
Croakers  may  say  what  they  please  about  the  world, 
and  that  although  it  pushes  ahead,  its  progression  is  not 
an  advantage  to  it.  Perhaps  there  is  too  much  hurry 
and  worry :  we  all  admit  this :  we  all  deplore  it,  but 
there  are  many  grand  improvements  over  the  old  times 
of  our  ancestors.  The  coming  man  ought  to  be  wiser 
and  better  than  the  man  of  to-day,  and  I  believe  that 
he  will  be.  Inheriting  the  zeal  and  enthusiasm  of  to- 
day, as  well  as  the  principles  of  truth  and  right,  he 
should  be  fruitful  in  noble  ideas  and  noble  deeds  —  God 
grant  he  may! 


'Tis  dark  around,  'tis  dark  above, 
But  through  the  shadow  streams  the  sun ; 
We  cannot  doubt  Thy  certain  love ; 
A  Man's  true  aim  shall  yet  be  won! 

THOMAS  WENTWORTH   HIGGINSON. 

Not  knowledge  only  enters  in  the  plan 
And  consummation  of  the  Coming  Man, 
And  not  belief  alone,  however  true  : 
The  best  is  not  to  rest,  it  is  to  do ; 
The  Coming  Man  shall  be  a  man  of  deeds 
Employing  substance  and  supplying  needs. 
His  wisest  word  shall,  bear  a  fitting  act, 
And  all  his  speculation  bloom  to  fact ; 
The  goodness  of  his  ethics  he  shall  prove 
By  logical  results  of  active  love. 

WILLIAM   HENRY  VENABLE. 
[174] 


JUNE   SEVENTEENTH. 

A  WIDE,  rich  heaven  hangs  above  you,  but  it  hangs 
high.     A  wide  rough  world  is  around  you,  and  it 
lies  very  low. — DONALD  G.  MITCHELL. 


Seek  Truth  at  all  times  :  do  not  grovel  with  the  false 
things  of  the  world.  Truth  leads  upward,  untruth 
downward.  Truth  holds  kinship  with  God,  untruth 
belongs  to  the  Evil  One.  Truth  is  open  as  the  day, 
and  in  its  presence  is  light  and  joy,  while  falsity  reigns 
in  darkness  and  dishonor.  Battle  against  error  and 
wrong ;  be  not  turned  aside  by  every  wind  that  blows, 
but  be  strong  in  purpose,  and  keep  fast  hold  of  the 
hand  of  Truth  :  she  will  prove  a  faithful  guide. 

Oh  strong  eagle-hearted,  turn  upward  thy  gaze 
And  meet  there,  unflinching,  the  wonderful  blaze 
Of  the  pure  light  of  Truth,  which,  from  its  high  source 
Up  above  the  dark  earth  and  the  gloom  and  the  haze 
Of  the  present,  makes  glorious  thine  eternal  course. 

Let  weariness  never  thy  broad  pinions  stay, 

But  upward,  still  cleaving  all  error  away, 

Let  them  bear  thee,  as  time  slips  behind,  with  a  sure 

And  a  widening  stroke,  and  each  shimmering  ray 

From  thy  sun  shall  grow  clearer  to  thee  and  more  pure. 

Push  up  through  the  billowing  ages  and  fly 
Swiftly  on  toward  thy  goal,  ever  keeping  thine  eye 
Sunward  turned,  and  let  nothing  thy  splendid  course 

stay 

From  its  noble  aim,  thine  inheritance  high ; 
Mount  up,  eagle-hearted,  to  eternal  day. 

D.    E.    PIERSON. 
[175] 


JUNE   EIGHTEENTH. 

OPEN  your  Bible  this  June  morning,  and  begin  the 
day  with  some  helpful  text :  get  a  good  start ; 
perhaps  there  will  be  special  perplexities  or  trials  t<? 
disturb  you :  put  on  your  Heavenly  armor,  and  then 
the  darts  from  the  hand  of  the  enemy  will  glance  off. 


Thou  truest  friend  man  ever  knew  ; 

Thy  constancy  I've  tried ; 
When  all  were  false,  I  found  thee  true, 

My  counsellor  and  guide. 
The  mines  of  earth  no  treasure  give 

That  could  this  volume  buy ; 
In  teaching  me  the  way  to  live, 

It  taught  me  how  to  die. 

GEORGE  P.    MORRIS. 


What  a  wonderful  book  the  Bible  is!  The  marvel 
of  literature;  the  text-book  of  the  world!  Where  is 
there  anything  like  it  in  all  the  writings  of  men?  — 
This  tree  of  wisdom,  beneath  whose  shadow  we  gather 
to  learn  lessons  beyond  all  that  was  taught  in  Platonic 
groves,  is  a  tree  of  God's  planting.  It  is  rooted  in  the 
soil  of  the  distant  centuries.  It  spreads  its  fibres  be- 
neath Sinai  and  Calvary.  The  spirit  of  God  breathes 
through  its  whispering  leaves,  and  the  songs  of  proph- 
ets, and  apostles,  and  martyrs  yet  wake  living  echoes 
beneath  its  branches.  The  leaves  of  the  tree  are  for 
the  healing  of  the  nations,  and  its  fruit  is  the  fruit  of 
the  Tree  of  Life.  Humanity  itself  pants  for  a  place 
beneath  its  shade.  —  E.  H.  GILLETT. 


[176] 


JUNE   NINETEENTH. 

IT  is  the  man  who  lays  a  brick  at  a  time  who  suc- 
ceeds in  building  a  wall ;  the  woman  who  keeps  at 
her  work,  stitch  by  stitch,  who  sews  a  seam.     Take  it 
out  and  do  it  over,  if  it  is  wrong :  keep  steadily  on,  and 
let  no  past  failures  prevent  you  from  trying  again. 


Over  and  over  again, 

No  matter  which  way  I  turn, 
I  always  find  in  the  Book  of  Life 

Some  lesson  I  have  to  learn. 
I  must  take  my  turn  at  the  mill, 

I  must  grind  out  the  golden  grain  ; 
I  must  work  at  my  task  with  a  resolute  will 

Over  and  over  again. 

We  cannot  measure  the  need 

Of  even  the  tiniest  flower, 
Nor  check  the  flow  of  the  golden  sands 

That  run  through  a  single  hour ; 
But  the  morning  dews  must  fall, 

And  the  sun  and  the  summer  rain 
Must  do  their  part,  and  perform  it  all 

Over  and  over  again. 

Over  and  over  again, 

The  brook  through  the  meadow  flows? 
And  over  and  over  again 

The  ponderous  mill-wheel  goes ; 
Once  doing  will  not  suffice, 

Though  doing  be  not  in  vain, 
And  a  blessing,  failing  once  or  twice, 

May  come  if  we  try  again. 

JOSEPHINE  POLLARD. 
A  12  [I77] 


JUNE   TWENTIETH. 

HE  who  loses  faith  in  God  and  man  must  indeed  be 
miserable :  what  attractions  can  the  present  life 
or  the  life  hereafter  have  for  him?  What  desperate 
things  a  state  of  mind  like  this  has  driven  men  to  do! 
It  has  made  hermits  of  them  ;  they  have  sought  to  hide 
from  all  humanity  and  live  in  selfish  seclusion  rather 
than  be  among  those  in  whom  they  have  lost  faith  and 
confidence.  It  has  caused  men  to  become  mentally 
deranged ;  to  be  melancholy  and  morose,  and  to  turn 
away  from  all  that  is  true  and  good.  Oh,  I  beseech 
you,  do  not  lose  your  faith.  Cling  to  God,  no  matter 
what  befalls  you :  believe  in  man,  for  he  is  your  brother, 
and  the  child  of  God. 

What  need  we  more  than  He  has  taught  is  right? 
What  need  we  more  than  He  has  given  of  light  ? 
Thy  neighbor  love,  be  simple,  pure  and  just, 
Have  faith  in  Me  and  in  My  wisdom  trust. 

WILLIAM   ADOLPHUS   CLARK. 

So  though  we  faint  on  life's  dark  hill, 
And  thought  grow  weak,  and  knowledge  flee, 
Yet  Faith  shall  teach  us  courage  still, 
And  Love  shall  guide  us  on  to  Thee. 

THOMAS  WENTWORTH   HIGGINSON. 

'Tis  Faith  that  cheers  my  pilgrim  way, 

When  shadows  o'er  me  fall, 
That  bids  me  look  above  the  storm, 

And  trust  the  Lord  for  all. 

FANNY  J.    CROSBY. 
[178] 


JUNE  TWENTY-FIRST. 

r~f~*O  live  a  life  whose  influence  shall  whiten  the  souls 
A  of  all  mankind,  this  should  be  the  aim  of  every 
one  of  us.  A  little  bunch  of  spring  violets  may  be 
brought  into  a  room  and  placed  where  they  cannot  be 
seen,  but  by  and  by  they  will  breathe  out  sweet 
breaths  of  fragrance,  until  any  one  coming  into  the 
room  will  exclaim,  "  Ah,  sweet  violets !  there  is  no 
mistaking  the  odor;  they  are  in  the  room  some- 
where ! "  The  fragrance  of  a  pure,  beautiful  life  is  like 
the  violets :  you  cannot  be  associated  with  it  without 
being  sweetened  and  refreshed.  There  is  an  atmos- 
phere that  surrounds  some  souls  that  seems  like  a  bit 
of  Heaven,  and  whenever  we  are  in  it  we  feel  as  if  we 
were  treading  on  holy  ground. 

Oh!  press  on! 

For  the  high  ones  and  powerful  shall  come 
To  do  you  reverence  ;  and  the  beautiful 
Will  know  the  purer  language  of  your  soul, 
And  read  it  like  a  talisman  of  love. 
Press  on!  for  it  is  godlike  to  unloose 
The  spirit,  and  forget  yourself  in  thought 
Bending  a  pinion  for  the  deeper  sky, 
And,  in  the  very  fetters  of  your  flesh, 
Mating  with  the  pure  essences  of  Heaven. 

N.  P.  WILLIS. 


For  none  shall  walk  in  perfect  white 

Till  every  soul  be  clean  ; 
So  close  for  sorrow  and  delight 

These  human  spirits  lean. 

KATHERINE  LEE   BATES. 
[179] 


JUNE   TWENTY-SECOND. 

SELF  is  only  the  casket  God  has  given  us  to  hold 
the  jewel  of  the  soul,  and  yet  we  set  a  very  high 
value  on  it  —  much  higher  than  He  does.  We  think  a 
great  deal  more  of  the  casket,  often,  than  of  the  jewel 
it  enshrines.  We  seek  to  adorn  and  polish  and  beau- 
tify it,  and  spare  no  pains  to  make  it  as  attractive  as 
possible,  while  the  precious  gem  that  God  has  made 
immortal  is  neglected  and  forgotten.  It  is  not  only  a 
pleasure,  but  a  duty  to  be  as  lovely  as  we  can  in  every 
way  possible,  but  the  cultivation  of  Self — our  outer 
Self —  should  not  lead  us  to  neglect  the  more  important 
work  of  beautifying  the  soul.  That  you  may  learn  the 
secret  of  true  living  is  my  prayer  to-day  —  the  sweet 
joy  of  doing  for  others  the  little  kindnesses  that  Christ 
has  put  in  your  power  to  do. 


Let  me  not  live  for  self;  but  tell 

My  anxious  spirit  how  to  cope 

With  doubt  and  weakness,  blasted  hope, 

In  souls  where  heavenly  peace  should  dwell ; 

To  help  aright, 

Where  fails  the  sight, 

On  to  the  goal,  eternal,  sure, 

With  purpose  strong  and  motive  pure. 

ELIZABETH   CHERRY   HAIRE. 


Live  not  for  self,  but  strive  for  others'  good, 
And  if  life's  rue  is  dealt  with  hand  unsparing, 

Put  not  the  cup  in  haste,  or  wrath  away, 

Nor  droop  beneath  the  cross  that  thou  art  bearing. 

EMILY   STUART  WEED. 
[180] 


JUNE   TWENTY-THIRD. 

WE  are  never  half  thankful  enough  for  rain:  we 
are  ever  singing  the  praises  of  the  sunshine, 
and  it  is  right  that  we  should  thank  God  for  every  ray 
from  Heaven,  but  we  do  not  appreciate  the  blessing  of 
rain  as  we  should.  Yet  what  grand  results  it  brings! 
On  a  warm  summer  day  how  the  fields  droop,  and  the 
flowers  faint  beneath  the  parching  beams  of  the  sun, 
but  when  God  pities  the  thirsty  earth  and  sends  the 
weeping  clouds  to  drop  their  showers  upon  a  parched 
and  dusty  world,  how  Nature  rejoices,  and  how  smil- 
ing and  refreshed  she  looks,  as  she  lifts  her  parched 
lips  to  drink  of  the  tears  of  Heaven. 


"  Bless  God  for  rain ! "     The  good  man  said, 

And  wiped  away  a  grateful  tear ; 
That  we  may  have  our  daily  bread, 

He  drops  a  shower  upon  us  here. 
Our  Father!  Thou  who  dwellest  in  Heaven, 

We  thank  Thee  for  the  pearly  shower! 
The  blessed  present  Thou  hast  given 

To  man,  and  beast,  and  bird  and  flower. 

The  modest  grass  is  fresh  and  green ; 

The  brooklet  swells  its  song  again  ; 
Methinks  an  angel's  wing  is  seen 

In  every  cloud  that  brings  us  Rain. 
There  is  a  rainbow  in  the  sky, 

Upon  the  arch  where  tempests  trod ; 
God  wrote  it  ere  the  world  was  dry  — 

It  is  the  autograph  of  God. 

GEORGE   W.   BUNGAY. 
[181] 


JUNE  TWENTY-FOURTH. 

HHHE  growth  of  grasses,  the  shinings  of  stars, 
A    The  interchange  of  night  and  day, 
All  growth  that  struggles  to  burst  the  bars 

Setting  it  hindrance  and  delay, 
All  storm,  all  tumult,  that  fills  the  breast, 

Utters  the  secret  as  best  it  may, 
Life  seeks  a  beyond,  a  highest,  a  best. 

LEWIS  J.    BLOCK. 


This  is  why  we  are  never  satisfied  with  ourselves ; 
the  restless  life  within  us  "seeks  a  beyond."  The 
lessons  of  yesterday  are  not  sufficient ;  we  must  go  on 
learning  to-day  and  to-morrow.  When  we  climb  a 
mountain  for  the  first  time,  we  are  astonished  at  the 
great  distance  we  have  made,  as  we  look  down  into 
the  valley  from  which  we  came.  When  we  look  at 
children  just  beginning  to  distinguish  the  letters  of 
the  alphabet,  we  say,  "  What  a  long  way  they  have  to 
travel  to  reach  the  top."  God  has  so  planned  that 
nothing  worth  having  shall  be  attained  without  patient 
effort.  It  is  the  hour-by-hour  growth  that  in  the  end 
can  look  back  on  steady  progress.  We  forget  all  our 
toil  at  last  in  the  glory  of  success.  Let  us  go  on 
climbing,  —  go  on  seeking  "the  beyond"  of  a  better, 
truer,  nobler  life,  making  daily  preparation  for  the  Life 
that  is  eternal. 

From  out  a  life  of  work  and  care, 
Of  crosses  heavy  and  burdens  sore, 

A  soul  may  bloom  to  beauty  rare 
That  shall  not  fade  forevermore. 

MINOT  JUDSON   SAVAGE. 


JUNE   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

DUTY,  which  seems  irksome  to  us  at  first,  often 
becomes  pleasant  while  we  are  doing  it.  It  de- 
pends very  much  on  the  spirit  in  which  we  take  hold 
of  it :  if  we  resolve  to  put  our  hearts  into  it  and  do  our 
best,  it  will  lose  its  disagreeableness  and,  in  a  measure, 
grow  attractive  to  us.  All  duty  done,  with  a  sense  of 
honor,  and  with  true  nobility  of  purpose,  becomes 
more  and  more  interesting.  If  it  is  hard,  and  your 
strength  is  small,  the  Master  is  ever  ready  to  help  and 
comfort  you,  and  labor  for  Him  becomes  beautiful  and 
holy  if  His  blessing  falls  upon  it. 


I  held  a  flower  in  my  hand ; 

'Twas  night,  I  could  not  see, 
And  judging  from  the  perfume,  thought 

The  flower  must  ugly  be. 
But  when  the  morning  came,  and  light 

With  its  transforming  power, 
I  did  forget  all  else  except 

The  beauty  of  the  flower. 

God  placed  a  duty  in  my  hand  ; 

Before  mine  eyes  could  see 
Its  rightful  form,  that  duty  seemed 

A  bitter  thing  to  me. 
The  Sun  of  glory  rose  and  shone ; 

Then  duty  I  forgot, 
And  thought  with  what  a  privilege 

The  Lord  had  blessed  my  lot. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[183] 


JUNE   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

T)RIGHTEN  your  intellect  in  every  way  you  can  — 
-L'  this  is  God's  all-wise  purpose  for  you.  Keep 
drinking  in,  like  a  thirsty  spring,  gaining  new  strength 
every  day.  It  is  a  fine  thing  to  be  intellectually  gen- 
erous, for  while  you  are  blessing  some  one  else,  you 
receive  a  blessing  as  well :  it  is  also  desirable  to  be 
intellectually  honest  —  to  have  the  mind's  vision  clear 
that  it  may  without  exaggeration  see  the  things  that 
shall  be  for  its  own  welfare. 

It  is  sure, 

Stamped  by  the  seal  of  nature,  that  the  well 
Of  mind,  where  all  its  waters  gather  pure, 
Shall  with  unquestioned  spell  all  hearts  allure. 
Wisdom  enshrined  in  beauty  —  Oh!  how  high 
The  odor  of  that  loveliness. 

JAMES   GATES   PERCIVAL. 

Oh,  be  it  mine  to  boast 

The  best  gift  to  mankind, 
The  choicest  boon  of  Heaven  — 

Integrity  of  mind; 

To  see  things  as  they  are, 

Unappall'd  by  shadows  vain, 
To  act  a  manly  part 

Despite  of  woe  and  pain  ; 

To  strive  while  hope  extends 

A  solitary  ray ; 
To  be  resigned  when  fate 

Shall  close  life's  transient  day! 

ISAAC   H.  JULIAN. 
[184] 


JUNE   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

HOW  beautiful  it  is  to  be  alive! 
To  make  each  morn  as  if  the  Maker's  grace 
Did  us  afresh  from  nothingness  derive, 

That  we  might  sing,  "  How  happy  is  our  case ! 
How  beautiful  it  is  to  be  alive!  " 

HENRY   SEPTIMUS   SUTTON. 

How  beautiful  it  is  to  be  alive  such  weather  as  this! 
You  cannot  turn  your  eyes  anywhere  but  proofs  of 
God's  love  are  to  be  seen  in  leaf  and  bud  and  grass. 
Oh,  get  in  tune  with  Nature's  harmonies  to-day.  If 
anything  troubles  or  discourages  you,  put  it  away  from 
you :  the  grand  old  world  is  happy  and  bright,  why 
should  not  you  be?  There  is  no  better  time  to  be 
glad  than  on  a  fresh,  dewy  June  morning! 

When  breaks  the  morn  in  the  clear,  blue  sky, 

And  the  young  larks  wake  and  sing, 
When  the  tall  brown  rushes  still  and  shy 

To  the  brooks  are  whispering, 
I  catch  the  refrain  that  charms  me  so 

And  my  heart  beats  light  and  free,  — 
For  I'm  in  love  with  the  world,  you  know, 

And  the  world's  in  love  with  me! 

When  hums  the  bee  in  the  honey-flowers 

Where  the  meads  are  sweet  and  gay, 
When  sparrows  chirp  thro'  the  rosy  hours 

Their  twittering  roundelay : 
My  heart  with  all  nature,  wakes  to  hear 

The  music  in  bough  and  tree, 
For  I'm  in  love  with  the  world,  my  dear, 

And  the  world's  in  love  with  me! 

IDA   SCOTT  TAYLOR. 
[185] 


JUNE   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

IN  chaste  and  warm  affections,  humble  wishes,  and 
honest   toil  for  some  useful  end,  there  is   health 
for  the  mind,  and  quiet  for  the  heart,  the  prospect  of  a 
happy  life,  and  the  fairest  hope  of  Heaven.  —  NATHANIEL 

HAWTHORNE. 

Whene'er  a  noble  deed  is  wrought, 
Whene'er  is  spoken  a  noble  thought, 

Our  hearts  in  glad  surprise 

To  higher  levels  rise. 

HENRY   W.    LONGFELLOW. 

Cherish  lofty  ambitions.  Let  thy  good  deeds  begin 
in  thy  heart,  and  grow  out  of  it ;  let  every  duty  be 
done  through  a  sense  of  right,  and  with  a  desire  to 
honor  God  and  thyself.  Love  thy  fellow-men :  if  they 
stand  above  thee,  reach  up  to  them  in  love :  if  they 
are  below  thee,  stoop  down  to  them  in  love,  and  thou 
canst  lift  them  up.  Do  every  good  deed  in  love  to 
God  and  man. 

The  test  of  worth 
Is  not  the  hold  you  have  of  earth  ; 
Lo,  there  be  gentlest  souls,  sea  blown, 
That  know  not  any  harbor  known ; 
And  it  may  be  the  reason  is 
They  touch  on  fairer  shores  than  this. 

JOAQUIN   MILLER. 

I  count  this  thing  to  be  grandly  true : 
That  a  noble  deed  is  a  step  towards  God, 
Lifting  the  soul  from  the  common  sod 

To  a  purer  air  and  a  broader  view. 

J.    G.    HOLLAND. 

[186] 


JUNE   TWENTY-NINTH. 

DO  not  complain  of  your  life  because  it  is  a  common- 
place one ;  that  is  just  what  God  wants  it  to  be, 
and  He  allows  all  the  little  every-day  events  to  come 
into  it  to  test  your  character.  Nothing  that  God  gives 
you  is  commonplace ;  it  may  seem  simple  and  monot- 
onous, but  homely  tasks,  homely  faces,  homely  living 
become  beautiful  to  Him  if  you  put  a  beautiful  spirit 
behind  them. 

A  commonplace  life,  we  say  and  we  sigh ; 

But  why  should  we  sigh  as  we  say? 
The  commonplace  sun  in  the  commonplace  sky 

Makes  up  the  commonplace  day. 
The  moon  and  the  stars  are  commonplace  things, 

The  flower  that  blooms  and  the  bird  that  sings ; 
But  sad  were  the  world,  and  dark  our  lot, 

If  flowers  failed  and  the  sun  shone  not, 
And  God,  who  sees  each  separate  soul, 

Out  of  commonplace  lives  makes  His  beautiful  whole. 

SUSAN   COOLIDGE. 

Oh,  that  this  one  central  thought 
Still  may  fill  our  starving  souls  — 

That  whatever  may  be  wrought, 
The  strong  hand  of  God  controls. 

Then  we  shall  not  despise 

Any  common  work  that  lies 

Nearest  to  our  willing  eyes. 

HATTIE   TYNG   GRISVVOLD. 

The  task  that  nearest  lies 
Perform,  and  wait  devoutly 
On  God,  who  helps  the  wise. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[187] 


JUNE   THIRTIETH. 

HPHE  generous  heart  is  the  happy  heart.  If  you 
J-  have  beautiful  thoughts,  why  should  you  hoard 
them  ?  If  you  have  wonderful  gifts,  why  should  you 
hide  them?  If  you  have  a  warm,  loving  hand,  why 
should  you  close  it  against  your  breast  instead  of  open- 
it  in  cordial  greeting  to  your  brother  man?  One  little 
act  of  generosity  is  a  small  thing,  yet  you  cannot  per- 
form the  most  trivial  task  which  will  be  a  blessing  to 
some  one  else  without  being  benefited  by  it  yourself. 
Some  one  has  said, "  Charity  is  never  lost ;  it  may  meet 
with  ingratitude,  or  be  of  no  service  to  those  on  whom 
it  was  bestowed,  yet  it  ever  does  a  work  of  beauty  and 
grace  upon  the  heart  of  the  giver." 

A  generous  heart  asks  no  reward ; 

It  is,  like  conscience,  clear ; 
A  feast,  where  all  best  gifts  are  stored, 

And  guests  have  all  good  cheer, 

And  with  glad  song 

In  happy  throng 

The  hours  prolong, 
With  loving  friends  whose  presence  makes  life  dear. 

HENRY   HAMILTON. 

Give!  as  the  morning  that  flows  out  of  Heaven; 
Give!  as  the  waves  when  their  channel  is  riven ; 
Give!  as  the  air  and  the  sunshine  are  given ; 

Lavishly,  utterly,  carelessly  give. 
Not  the  waste  drops  of  thy  cup  overflowing, 
Not  the  faint  sparks  of  thy  hearth  ever  glowing, 
Not  a  pale  bud  from  the  June  Rose's  blowing, 

Give  as  He  gave  thee,  who  gave  thee  to  live. 

ROSE   TERRY   COOKE. 
[188] 


HELEN  HUNT  JACKSON 

1831-1885 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF   JULY 

* 
JULY   FIRST. 

WHEN  the  heat  like  a  mist-veil  floats, 
And  poppies  flame  in  the  rye, 
And  the  silver  note  in  the  streamlet's  throat, 
Has  softened  almost  to  a  sigh, 
It  is  July. 

When  the  hours  are  so  still  that  Time 

Forgets  them,  and  lets  them  lie 
'Neath  petals  pink  till  the  night  stars  wink 

At  the  sunset  in  the  sky, 
It  is  July. 

When  each  finger-post  by  the  way 

Says  that  Slumbertown  is  nigh ; 
When  the  grass  is  tall,  and  the  roses  fall, 

And  nobody  wonders  why, 
It  is  July. 

ANONYMOUS. 

The  year  is  half  gone,  and  we  stand  to-day  looking 
into  the  face  of  July,  wondering  what  she  has  in  store 
for  us.  The  passing  days  have  had  their  bitter  and 
sweet.  Trials  or  sorrows  are  hardest  while  we  live 
them  ;  joys  are  sweetest  when  they  are  gone.  But  let 
us  thank  God  for  both,  —  life  would  not  be  worth  much 
if  it  were  all  sunshine,  or  all  shadow.  Our  mortality  is 
but  the  shadow  that  will  soon  pass  away,  but  the 
immortal  part  is  the  light  that  shall  last  forever. 
[189] 


JULY   SECOND. 

AMONG  THE  MEADOWS. 

THE  buttercups,  bright-eyed  and  bold, 
Held  up  their  chalices  of  gold 
To  catch  the  sunshine  and  the  dew. 

JULIA   C.    R.    DORR. 

The  meadow-children  are  nodding  brightly :  in  each 
dear  little  face  is  joy  and  gladness ;  in  every  silken 
petal  is  the  touch  of  God's  Master-hand.  Oh,  what  les- 
sons they  teach  us!  they  preach  silent  sermons  of 
humility,  contentment,  simplicity,  and  praise.  So  frail, 
and  yet  so  courageous,  they  stand  bravely  up  and  meet 
the  storm,  their  faces  always  upturned  to  Heaven. 

Who  is  this  maiden  with  fringe  on  her  cap? 

Heigh-ho,  bonny  Daisy! 
Just  wide  awake  from  a  long,  long  nap  — 

Heigh-ho,  bonny  Daisy! 

MRS.    M.    F.    BUTTS. 

Clear  and  simple  in  white  and  gold, 

Meadow  blossoms  of  sunlit  spaces, 
The  field  is  full  as  it  well  can  hold 

And  white  with  the  drift  of  the  ox-eye  daisies ! 

DORA  READ   GOODALE. 

Welcome,  a  thousand  times  welcome,  ye  dear  and  deli- 
cate neighbors  — 
Bird  and  bee  and  butterfly,  and  humming-bird  fairy 

fine! 

Proud  am  I  to  offer  you  a  field  for  your  graceful  labors  ; 
All  the  honey  and  all  the  seeds  are  yours  in  this  gar- 
den of  mine. 

CELIA   THAXTER. 
[190] 


JULY  THIRD. 

TTVERYTHING  in  Nature  pushes  on  to  complete- 
-L'  ness.  Not  the  smallest  blade  of  grass,  or  tiniest 
tuft  of  moss  was  ever  known  to  stop  growing  and 
thriving,  so  long  as  it  has  no  hindrances.  While  it  has 
air,  and  sunshine,  and  shower,  it  never  rests.  There  is 
a  goal  to  be  reached,  something  in  the  end  worth  striv- 
ing for, —  it  is  perfection.  We  too  should  be  no  less 
aspiring.  While  nourished  by  the  sunshine  of  God's 
love,  and  watered  with  the  dews  of  His  grace,  our  own 
ambition  should  be  to  reach  completeness,  and  let  fall 
some  good  seed  that  shall  take  root  and  grow  and 
spring  into  life  everlasting. 

Thou  mayst  not  rest  in  any  lovely  thing, 

Thou,  who  wert  formed  to  seek  and  to  aspire ; 
For  no  fulfilment  of  thy  dreams  can  bring 

The  answer  to  thy  measureless  desire. 
The  beauty  of  the  round  green  world  is  not 

Of  the  world's  essence ;  far  within  the  sky 
The  tints  which  make  this  bubble  bright  are  wrought 

The  bubble  bursts ;  the  light  can  never  die. 

LUCY  LARCOM. 


Christians  are  to  be  perfect  even  as  their  Father  in 
Heaven  is  perfect.  Our  Saviour  came  to  show  us  how 
we  should  act,  just  as  truly  as  what  actions  we  were  to 
do.  The  completeness  of  His  work  is  shown  in  the 
method  as  much  as  in  the  deed ;  and  yet  there  is  a 
deeper  truth  still .  Nothing  less  than  completeness,  per- 
fection, satisfies  us.  The  constant  charm  of  Christ  is  His 
perfection.  —  Christ  for  us,  Christ  in  -us,  Christ  before 
us,  makes  us  complete.  —  CHARLES  s.  ALBERT. 


T 


JULY   FOURTH. 

I  HE   birthday   of  American   Independence!      Let 
every  loyal  heart  rejoice! 

My  country,  'tis  of  thee, 

Sweet  land  of  liberty,  — 

Of  thee  I  sing! 

SAMUEL  F.    SMITH. 


The  generations  of  men  shall  come  and  go ;  the 
greatness  of  yesterday  shall  be  forgotten  to-day,  and 
the  glories  of  this  noon  shall  vanish  before  to-morrow's 
sun ;  but  America  shall  not  perish,  but  endure  while 
the  spirit  of  our  fathers  animates  their  sons.  —  HENRY 

ARMITT  BROWN. 

Up  with  our  banner  bright, 

Sprinkled  with  starry  light, 
Spread  its  fair  emblems  from  mountain  to  shore, 

While  through  the  sounding  sky, 

Loud  rings  the  nation's  cry, 
Union  and  Liberty!  One  evermore! 

OLIVER   WENDELL   HOLMES. 

O,  thus  be  it  ever,  when  freemen  shall  stand 

Between  their  loved  homes  and  the  war's  desolation ; 

Blest  with  victory  and  peace,  may  the  Heaven-rescued 

land 

Praise  the  power  that  has  made  and  preserved  us  a 
nation! 

Then  conquer  we  must,  for  our  cause  it  is  just, 

And  this  be  our  motto,  "  In  God  is  our  trust." 

And  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  shall  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave! 

FRANCIS   SCOTT   KEY. 
[192] 


A 


JULY   FIFTH. 
RESTFUL  day  to  you! 


A  little  rest,  Lord,  midway  of  Life's  hours, 
A  space  of  soft  and  summer-sweet  repose ; 

Time  to  glance  backward  on  bright  morning's  flowers, 
On  weary  wanderings  ere  the  noontide  goes  ; 
Give  me  one  hour  of  rest! 

CELESTE  M.   WINSLOW. 

In  your  zeal  to  make  the  best  of  your  time  and  oppor- 
tunities, do  not  overwork.  Take  a  little  rest  by  the 
wayside  of  life,  if  you  can :  drop  your  cares,  burdens, 
and  anxieties ;  lay  aside  your  business,  and  allow  your 
brain  and  body  to  have  a  little  much-needed  rest.  It 
will  do  you  good.  Get  out  into  the  country  for  a  few 
days  if  you  can.  July  in  town  is  hot  and  dry  and 
dusty,  but  in  the  country  it  is  dreamy  and  peaceful.  If 
there  is  a  breeze  stirring,  you  can  find  it,  and  it  is  like 
healing  balm  to  your  tired  body  and  brain.  Rest  here 
on  earth  is  only  a  little  pause :  we  cannot  entirely  rid 
ourselves  of  the  pressure  of  life's  duties  and  responsi- 
bilities, but  may  push  them  aside  for  a  little  while. 
We  shall  never  find  our  true  rest  until  we  find  it  with 
One  whose  gentle  hand  has  power  to  smooth  every 
furrow  from  the  brow  and  lift  every  burden  from  the 
heart. 

God  keeps  back  rest  alone,  that  the  world-weary, 
E'en  though  his  cup  high  mantles  to  the  brim, 

Or  though  his  fate  be  desolate  and  dreary, 
May  seek  and  find  repose  alone  in  Him! 

ANONYMOUS. 
A  13  [193] 


JULY  SIXTH. 

HARD  was  his  lot,  and  bitter  words 
Were  often  of  him  said, 
Not  that  he  did  so  bad  a  thing  — 
They  misinterpreted. 

MARCUS   BLAKELY   ALLMOND. 

Oh,  be  careful  how  you  judge.  Many  a  heart  has 
ached,  many  a  life  been  blighted,  because  of  hasty 
opinions  and  misinterpretations.  Think  of  the  times 
you  have  done  or  said  things  which  must  have  looked 
strange  to  others.  You  admit  that  you  were  placed  in 
a  false  light,  but  you  excuse  yourself  by  saying,  "  No 
matter  how  it  seemed  to  others,  it  was  all  right,  but 
of  course  I  could  not  explain  the  circumstances."  Yet 
you  are  suspicious  of  some  one  else  when  appearances 
are  against  them,  and  misjudge  them,  when  often  they 
are  no  more  to  blame  than  you  were.  The  great  dif- 
ference is  that  you  understand  yourself,  and  that  you 
misunderstood  your  neighbor.  You  put  the  wrong 
construction  upon  his  words  and  actions,  and  were 
shocked  and  surprised  at  an  imaginary  wrong.  Weigh 
carefully  your  words  before  you  speak,  lest  you  wound 
or  hurt  a  sensitive  soul.  There  is  nothing  that  crushes 
a  human  being  like  this  —  to  be  continually  misunder- 
stood. 

O  souls  that  struggle  to  express 
The  truths  ye  cannot  now  repress, 

Of  inward  life  for  outward  good! 
In  this  earth-language  do  ye  own 
A  word  of  sadder,  keener  tone 

Than  this  slow  uttered  word — misunderstood? 

MARIA   UPHAM   DRAKE. 
[194] 


M 


JULY   SEVENTH. 
AY  God  give  thee  strength  for  the  day! 


Oh,  God's  love  is  like  a  well-spring  in  the  desert : 
it  will  cool  and  refresh  thee,  and  give  thee  new  life  and 
hope.  If  thou  wouldst  have  strength  for  this  day,  go 
to  Him  trustingly,  simply,  as  a  child  to  an  earthly 
parent,  and  make  thy  want  known.  His  ear  is  ever 
open  to  the  cry  of  His  children. 

Not  for  some  future  years, 

Within  whose  misty  length 
May  lie  a  shadow  of  great  woe  and  tears, 
A  burden  sore  of  care  and  fears, 

He  stores  His  promised  strength. 

But  as  the  manna  fell 

Each  day  from  Heaven, 
And  for  the  host  of  waiting  Israel 
Did  the  fierce  hunger  quell, 

So,  too,  is  freely  given, 

Strength  for  the  daily  life, 

A  blessed  store, 

For  the  small  worries,  and  the  paltry  strife, 
With  which  each  hour  is  rife, 

Some  less,  or  more. 

He  hath  His  great  supplies 

For  all  our  ways  ; 

For  tempest  drear,  or  for  the  sunny  skies, 
Whether  we  weep,  or  songs  of  joy  arise, 

Strength  for  our  days. 

LUCY  RANDOLPH  FLEMING. 
[195] 


JULY    EIGHTH. 

T  ET  us  remember  that  the  still  days  will  soon  grow 
J — '  into  months,  and  the  months  into  years.  May 
we  not  undervalue  them,  but  make  a  noble  record  for 
Eternity! 

Each  coming  year  doth  bring 
Enough  of  the  supremest,  rarest  joy, 
To  compensate  for  all  its  direst  ills, 
And  leave  enough  besides  to  make  God  kind 
And  life  a  blessing. 

MRS.    S.    M.   I.   HENRY. 

They  are  slipping  away,  these  sweet,  swift  years, 

Like  a  leaf  on  the  current  cast ; 
With  never  a  break  in  the  rapid  flow, 
We  watch  them,  as  one  by  one  they  go 

Into  the  beautiful  past. 

One  after  another  we  see  them  pass 

Down  the  dim-lighted  stair ; 
We  hear  the  sound  of  their  heavy  tread 
In  the  steps  of  the  centuries  long  since  dead, 

As  beautiful  and  fair. 

There  are  only  a  few  years  left  to  love ; 

Shall  we  waste  them  in  idle  strife  ? 
Shall  we  trample  under  our  ruthless  feet 
Those  beautiful  blossoms  rare  and  sweet, 

By  the  dusky  way  of  life  ? 

There  are  only  a  few  swift  years  —  ah !  let 

No  envious  taunts  be  heard ; 
Make  life's  fair  pattern  of  rare  design, 
And  fill  up  the  measure  with  love's  sweet  wine, 

But  never  an  angry  word. 

ANONYMOUS. 
[196] 


JULY   NINTH. 

PRACTISE  self-denial  every  day.  Lay  a  whole- 
some restraint  upon  your  appetites.  Be  not  con- 
founded by  this  world.  Let  your  dress,  let  your 
house,  your  furniture,  be  plain  and  simple,  as  be- 
cometh  a  Christian.  Avoid  vain  parade  and  show 
in  everything.  Forgive  and  pray  for  your  enemies. 
Have  little  to  do  with  party  politics.  Carry  on  your 
business  on  sober,  judicious  principles.  Live  peace- 
ably with  all  men  as  much  as  in  you  lies.  Keep 
your  heart  with  all  diligence.  —  ARCHIBALD  ALEX- 
ANDER. 


The  faith  we  hold  is  built  on  deeds  we  do, 
As  lofty  temples  rest  on  solid  ground  — 
As  through  earth-roots  the  flower  is  glory-crowned  ; 

And  when  our  life  is  high  our  creed  is  too. 

For  they  who  do  the  right  have  clearest  view 
And  penetrate  beyond  the  shadowy  bound 
Of  phantom  worlds  to  where  God's  truth  is  found, 

And  taste  the  joy  which  others  but  pursue. 

HENRY   HAMILTON. 

But  to  the  one  whose  spirit 

Yearns  for  the  great  and  good ; 
Unto  the  one  whose  storehouse 

Yieldeth  the  hungry  food ; 
Unto  the  one  who  labors, 

Fearless  of  foe  or  frown, 
Unto  the  kindly-hearted, 

Cometh  a  blessing  down. 

MARY  F.    TUCKER. 
[197] 


JULY   TENTH. 

WHEN  in  impatience  led  to  oft  complain, 
When  other's  faults  long  in  the  memory  live, 
Come  in  my  heart  with  loving  peace  to  reign ; 
Teach  me  forgiveness,  Lord,  "  my  sins  forgive." 

So  thoughtless  we,  our  careless  steps  oft  stray ; 

In  hours  of  danger  each  resolve  forgot ; 
Thou  knowest  all  our  weaknesses,  we  pray, 

"  Into  temptation,"  Lord,  oh,  "  lead  us  not." 

NELLIE  F.    CORNELL. 


Just  one  little  word  said  in  the  morning,  sometimes 
mars  the  peace  of  a  whole  day.  You  need  to  send  up 
a  special  prayer  to  God  for  forgiveness  then,  and  also 
a  cry  for  deliverance  from  temptation.  The  worst  of 
it  all  is,  that  those  to  whom  you  often  speak  unkindly 
are  those  you  love  best,  —  your  nearest  and  dearest, 
whose  very  lives  seem  a  part  of  your  own,  because 
your  interests  are  one.  How  sorry  you  will  be  some- 
time for  this,  if  you  are  not  now.  Be  careful ;  oh, 
learn  to  speak  tenderly  and  gently  to  your  own. 


We  have  careful  thought  for  the  stranger, 

And  smiles  for  the  sometime  guest ; 
But  oft  for  our  own  the  bitter  tone, 

Though  we  love  our  own  the  best. 
Ah !  lips  with  the  curve  impatient, 

Ah !  brow  with  the  shade  of  scorn, 
'Twere  a  cruel  fate,  were  the  night  too  late 

To  undo  the  work  of  the  morn! 

MARGARET   E.    SANGSTER. 
fi98] 


JULY  ELEVENTH. 

'•  HPHEY  that  are  strong  ought  to  bear  the  infirm- 
J-  ities  of  the  weak."  There's  a  test  that  wants  no 
candle  to  show  it ;  it  shines  by  its  own  light.  Walk 
up  and  down  this  weary,  suffering  world,  with  eyes 
like  Christ's.  Let  issue  from  your  lives  an  influence 
so  blessed,  that,  though  you  be  not  heralded  as  the 
great  benefactors  of  the  race,  though  your  death  pro- 
duce no  universal  shock,  though  your  funeral  train  be 
humble,  though  no  splendid  mausoleum  mark  your 
final  resting-place,  —  there  shall  rise  to  God  the  silent 
testimony  of  sorrowing  souls  that  you  have  comforted. 

—  EDWARD   ALLEN   TANNER. 

Through  time  and  space  our  influence  runs, 

Though  small  it  seems  to  be, 
And  Time's  strange  ways  shall  roll  at  last 

To  God's  eternity. 

It  lies  with  you  to  give  to  God 
This  fair  earth  bright  and  strong 

And  pure  as  when  the  morning  stars 
Woke  their  exultant  song ; 

And  when  earth's  King,  in  clouds  and  fire, 

Shall  come  to  claim  His  throne, 
The  life  whose  touch  was  truest  here, 

Shall  quickest  touch  His  own. 

MRS.  J.   C.   FIELD. 

A  firm  faith  is  the  best  divinity;  a  good  life,  the 
best  philosophy;  a  clear  conscience,  the  best  law; 
honesty,  the  best  policy ;  and  temperance  the  best 
physic;  —  living  for  both  worlds  is  the  wisest  and 
best  life.  —  ANONYMOUS. 

[199] 


JULY   TWELFTH. 

IF  not  to  fly,  why  has  the  robin  wings, 
While  the  green  desert  dares  him  to  be  free ; 
Why  does  he  yearn  to  reach  remotest  things, 
The  mountain's  rim  —  if  it  were  not  to  be  ? 

If  not  to  wander  by  the  willow  trees, 
Why  wakes  the  torrent  from  its  long  repose ; 

If  not  to  woo  the  butterflies  —  the  bees, 
Why  sweet  and  beautiful  the  summer's  rose  ? 

ANNIE   ROBERTSON  NOXON. 


Whatever  resources  are  yours,  take  advantage  of 
them.  God  has  not  endowed  you  with  a  body,  mind, 
and  soul  simply  to  exhibit  His  powers  of  creation. 
You  have  a  gold  mine  within  you,  if  you  only  knew  it. 
Use  the  pick-axe  and  spade ;  turn  up  the  surface-soil, 
and  take  a  glimpse  of  your  real  inner  self.  Persever- 
ance and  energy  will  reveal  treasures  you  did  not 
know  you  possessed.  Make  the  best  of  your  chances : 
don't  wait  for  to-morrow.  God's  time  is  to-day :  your 
time  is  to-day. 

What  use  for  the  rope  if  it  be  not  flung 

Till  the  swimmer's  grasp  to  the  rock  has  clung? 

What  help  in  a  comrade's  bugle  blast 

When  the  peril  of  Alpine  heights  is  past? 

What  need  the  spurring  paean  roll 

When  the  runner  is  safe  beyond  the  goal? 

What  worth  is  eulogy's  blandest  breath, 

When  whispered  in  ears  that  are  hushed  in  death? 

MARGARET  J.    PRESTON. 
[200] 


JULY   THIRTEENTH. 

T)ERHAPS  there  is  some  special  thing  for  which 
JL  you  have  worked  and  planned  all  your  life.  Is  it 
fame,  or  social  position,  or  gold?  Is  it  knowledge? 
Is  it  a  chance  to  improve  your  talents,  that  you  may 
glorify  the  Giver  of  all  good  gifts  ?  God  sees  a  great 
deal  deeper  down  in  your  heart  than  you  do  :  He  knows 
why  you  are  striving,  and  whether  your  motive  is 
honorable  or  not.  Whatever  your  ambition  may  be, 
let  it  be  noble —  not  the  seeking  of  Self  s  interests,  but 
the  uplifting  of  humanity. 


I  have  my  own  ambition.     It  is  not 
To  mount  on  eagle's  wings  and  soar  away 

Beyond  the  palings  of  the  common  lot, 
Scorning  the  griefs  and  joys  of  every  day ; 

I  would  be  human  —  toiling,  like  the  rest, 

With  tender  human  heart-beats  in  my  breast. 

Humanity  is  much  the  same.    If  I 

Can  give  my  neighbor's  pent-up  thought  a  tongue, 
And  can  give  voice  to  his  unspoken  cry 

Of  bitter  pain,  when  my  own  heart  is  wrung, — 
Then  we  too  meet  upon  a  common  land, 
And  henceforth  stand  together,  hand  in  hand. 

I  send  my  thought  its  kindred  thought  to  greet, 
Out  to  the  far  frontier,  through  crowded  town. 

Friendship  is  precious,  sympathy  is  sweet ; 
So  these  be  mine,  I  ask  no  laurel  crown. 

Such  my  ambition,  which  I  here  unfold ; 

So  be  it  granted  —  mine  is  wealth  untold. 

ELLEN   P.   ALLERTON. 
[20!] 


\7" 


JULY   FOURTEENTH. 
motto  for  to-day  —  all's  for  the  best! 


All's  for  the  best,  if  we  only  did  know  it  ; 

Sorrow  and  suffering,  anguish  and  loss  ; 
Tenderly,  kindly,  God's  hand  doth  bestow  it, 

Bridging  with  love  the  deep  chasm  across. 
Dark  are  the  shadows  foretelling  the  dawning, 

Bringing  the  chariot  wheels  of  the  day  ; 
It  is  always  the  night-time  before  it  is  morning  — 

Always  the  winter  before  it  is  May. 
Joy  walketh  close  in  the  footsteps  of  sorrow  — 

We  find  not  the  thorn  till  the  rose  we  have  pressed  ; 
But  let  it  be  grief  or  joy  on  the  morrow, 

God's  way  is  the  way  that  is  always  the  best. 

HELEN   A.    MANVILLE. 

We  cannot  see  why  our  plan  should  have  failed,  or 
why  our  castle  so  carefully  builded  should  be  all  ruins, 
nor  why  our  roses  should  die  and  leave  nothing  but 
thorns.  We  cannot  see  why  we  should  have  bitter  in- 
stead of  sweet  in  our  cup,  nor  why  we  should  have  gray 
shadows  instead  of  dancing  sunbeams  in  the  pathway 
that  we  tread.  No,  with  our  mortal  eyes  we  cannot 
see  these  things  ;  but  the  eye  of  Faith  can  discern 
much  that  is  hidden  from  common  view.  It  sees  God 
in  all  our  lives,  and  reads  His  will,  His  guidance,  and 
His  love  in  every  wise  plan. 

But  God  is  God,  my  darling, 
Of  the  night  as  well  as  the  day  ; 

And  we  feel  and  know  that  we  can  go 
Wherever  He  leads  the  way. 

REMBRANDT  PEALE. 


JULY   FIFTEENTH. 

"  TNASMUCH   as  ye  have  done  it  unto   one  of  the 
•*•  least  of  these  My  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto 
Me." 

I  have  no  frankincense,  no  myrrh, 

I  have  no  spice,  no  oil ; 
But  here  are  snowy  roses,  Christ, 

Without  a  stain  or  soil. 

0  fairest  Lord,  for  Thy  dear  sake 
My  roses  take. 

1  have  no  silver,  and  no  gem, 

No  virgin  gold  for  Thee ; 
But  here  are  lilies  white  as  light 

And  sweet  with  purity. 
O  fairest  Lord,  for  Thy  dear  sake, 

My  lilies  take. 

LILLIE   E.    BARR. 

It  is  the  spirit  behind  the  gift,  that  God  looks  at. 
No  matter  how  lowly,  or  how  poor  an  offering  may  be, 
it  will  find  acceptance  with  Him,  if  you  give  it  with  the 
right  motive.  Flowers  carry  sweet  messages  for  Christ ; 
if  you  cannot  do  more  than  this,  you  can  allow  flowers 
to  speak  for  you  in  sympathy,  kindness,  and  love.  God 
speaks  through  Nature,  and  Nature's  sweetest  children 
are  flowers. 

I  often  wonder  whether  those  to  whom  our  Heavenly 
Father  grants  this  blessed  ministry  of  sending  flowers 
into  the  darkened  rooms  of  the  suffering,  fully  realize 
the  beautiful  mission  of  their  gifts! — a  mission  which 
touches  so  many  different  chords  in  the  heart  of  the 
receiver.  —  ROSE  PORTER. 

[203] 


JULY   SIXTEENTH. 

HPHE  soul  of  God  is  poured  into  the  world  through 
-*•  the  thoughts  of  men.  —  As  cloud  on  cloud,  as 
snow  on  snow,  as  the  bird  rests  on  the  air,  and  the 
planet  rests  on  space  in  its  flight,  —  so  do  nations  of 
men  and  their  institutions  rest  on  thoughts.  —  RALPH 

WALDO   EMERSON. 


The  loving  thoughts  we  shelter  in  the  heart, 

Upspringing  there,  the  blades  of  good  shall  grow, 

Which  kept  by  watchful  care  from  weeds  apart, 
The  evil  thoughts  which  we  too  often  sow, 

Shall  flourish,  grow  in  strength,  and  soon  increase, 
And  we  in  Life's  last  days  the  fruit  shall  see, 

Reward  of  life  well  spent,  —  eternal  peace,  — 
For  "  as  our  sowing,  shall  our  reaping  be." 

LUCIE  A.    HAGER. 


May  God  fill  you  with  beautiful  thoughts  to-day! 
Let  them  spring  up  within  you  and  blossom  for  all 
Eternity  :  let  them  issue  from  your  lips  in  gentle,  pure 
words  that  shall  uplift  a  drooping  soul,  and  comfort  a 
sorrowing  heart.  Let  the  thoughts  born  within  you 
this  July  day  bear  kinship  to  Heaven :  if  the  inner  life 
is  pure  and  beautiful,  the  thoughts  that  proceed  out  of 
it  will  soar  upward  into  a  congenial  clime. 


All  thoughts  that  mould  the  age,  begin 
Deep  down  within  the  primitive  soul. 

JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 
[204] 


JULY   SEVENTEENTH. 

T    OSE  not  a  day,  for  thou  mightst  look  a  lifetime  but 
•1— '  never  find  it ! 


Press  onward!     Soul,  thou  shalt  not  rest, 

For  thou  shalt  never  say 
That  one  glad  moment  lost  to  thee 

Awaits  the  judgment  day. 

Arm,  arm  thyself  with  God's  own  might! 

The  day  speeds  on  apace, 
And  somewhere  night  is  rolling  up 

The  opal  walls  of  space. 

WILLIS  MARSHALL. 

Didst  thou  ever  think  what  a  sorrowful  thing  a  lost 
day  was?  Didst  thou  ever  think  how  thou  shouldst  ac- 
count to  God  for  it  ?  Let  no  day  slip  away  from  thee  but 
see  to  it  that  thou  dost  treasure  up  its  glad  hours,  and 
make  them  still  gladder,  by  adding  to  them  some  beau- 
tiful memento  that  God  and  the  angels  shall  inscribe 
with  thy  name. 

Up,  up,  my  soul,  ere  yet  the  shadow  falleth  ; 

Some  good  return  in  latter  seasons  wrought, 
Forget  thyself,  when  duty's  angel  calleth  - 

The  time  is  short. 

By  all  the  lapses  thou  hast  been  forgiven, 
By  all  the  lessons  prayer  to  thee  hath  taught, 

To  others  teach  the  sympathies  of  Heaven  — 
The  time  is  short. 

ELIZABETH    PRENTISS. 
[205] 


JULY  EIGHTEENTH. 

'"THOUGHT  makes  character.    "  As  a  man  thinketh 
A    in  his  heart,  so  is  he."  .  .  .     And  in  character  is 
wrapped  up  eternal  destiny.  — EDWARD  A.  TANNER. 

To  the  sea-shell's  spiral  round 
'Tis  the  heart  that  brings  the  sound : 
The  soft  sea-murmurs  that  you  hear 
Within,  are  captured  from  your  ear. 

THOMAS   BAILEY  ALDRICH. 

To  the  responsive  heart  all  beautiful  things  speak, 
all  good  things  appeal.  If  we  carry  within  us  a  love 
for  truth  and  right,  all  that  is  true  and  right  finds  an 
echo  in  our  being.  So  if  we  are  evil  by  nature,  and 
cherish  evil  thoughts,  we  are  incapable  of  seeing  the 
good  in  others ;  or  if  we  may  in  a  degree  recognize  it, 
we  are  unable  fully  to  appreciate  it.  So  with  the  soul : 
if  it  has  no  love  for  God  in  it,  it  is  impossible  for  it  to 
comprehend  or  appreciate  His  goodness.  If  we  are 
pulsing  and  thrilling  with  the  love  of  God,  all  His 
works  are  lovely  to  us,  and  the  grand  old  world  which 
He  has  made  is  a  magnificent  picture  from  the  skilful 
hand  of  the  Divine  Artist. 

Then  find  no  fault  with  the  sunshine, 

God  made  the  world  bright  to  be, 
He  hath  made  a  leaf-shelter  for  every  bird 

And  a  song-bird  for  every  tree. 
But  into  the  human  heart  the  law 

Cometh  for  bitter  or  sweet ; 
The  measure  which  thou  to  the  world  doth  give 

Such  measure  the  world  will  mete. 

JULIA  A.    F.    CARNEY. 
[206] 


O 


JULY   NINETEENTH. 

H,  never  yet  upon  the  scroll 
Of  the  sin-stained,  but  priceless  soul, 
Hath  Heaven  inscribed  "  Despair." 

JOHN   GREENLEAF  WHITTIER. 


Ah,  what  thoughtful,  loving  provision  God  hath 
made  for  us  in  the  gift  of  the  angel  of  Hope!  There  is 
no  path  so  dark  but  we  may  see  the  glimmer  of  her 
shining  wings,  no  misfortune  so  heavy  but  her  helpful 
hand  is  outstretched  to  us,  and  her  smile  still  ready  to 
cheer  and  encourage  us. 

There's  hope  for  me,  and  hope  for  you! 
Behind  the  cloud  the  sky's  still  blue ; 
Behind  our  crosses,  we  are  told, 
Awaits  our  crown  of  glittering  gold ; 
O  Heart  be  glad,  and  Heart,  be  true, 
There's  hope,  sweet  hope  for  me  and  you! 

i.  s.  T. 

Life  hath  its  hopes  fulfilled ; 

Its  glad  fruitions,  its  best  answered  prayer, 
Sweeter  for  waiting  long,  whose  holy  air 
Indrawn  to  silent  souls  breathes  forth  in  rare 

Grand  speech,  by  joy  distilled. 

ISADORE  G.   JEFFERY. 

Hold  up  your  head,  then,  child  of  grief, 
Nor  longer  to  the  tempest  bend : 

For  soon  or  late  must  come  relief — 
The  coldest,  darkest  night  will  end. 

Within  my  heart  hope  never  dies ; 

Trust  on !  your  day-star  yet  shall  rise ! 

ANONYMOUS. 


JULY   TWENTIETH. 

*~pHERE  is  always  something  to  be  thankful  for. 
-»-  While  you  are  planning  a  jaunt  to  the  country, 
don't  forget  that  you  are  not  the  only  one  who  is 
longing  for  the  sight  of  a  cool,  green  spot.  What  are 
you  doing  towards  the  "  Fresh  Air  Mission  "  ?  This  is 
one  of  God's  opportunities. 

But  what  of  those  children,  poor  and  sad, 

(Fatherless,  motherless,  may  be  too,) 
Shadowed  by  poverty,  sickness  and  pain, 

Crowded  and  stifled  the  summer  through ! 
What  of  the  little  and  longing  hearts 

Which  wait  so  patiently  day  by  day 
For  a  glimpse  of  the  happy  and  wonderful  things 

That  rarely,  if  ever,  can  pass  their  way ! 
They  too  must  long  for  the  beautiful  place 

Where  everything  grows  so  sweet  and  fair! 
They  too  must  wish  for  a  little  space 

In  the  broad  green  meadows,  a  whiff  of  air. 

All  flower-scented  and  fresh  and  cool, 

And  the  wealth  of  clover  and  daisies  white, 
The  sound  of  birds  in  the  grand  old  trees, 

And  a  frolic  with  all  the  sunbeams  bright! 
Let  us  give  them  a  chance  to  share  with  us 

The  sweet,  glad  charms  of  the  summer-time ! 
As  the  joy-bells  ring  in  our  happy  hearts 

Let  theirs  catch  the  echo  of  each  sweet  chime ; 
For  them  as  for  us  God's  gifts  were  meant, 

(May  He  help  us  remember  that,  day  by  day,) 
And  the  "  Helping  Hand  "  outstretched  in  His  name 

He  will  fill  o'erflowing,  dear  friends,  alway. 

MARY   D.    BRINE. 
[208] 


JULY   TWENTY-FIRST. 

WHEN  you  awake,  resolve  that  it  shall  be  to  some 
faithful  purpose,  and  that  your  renovated  powers 
shall  be  obedient  to  Him  who  has  renewed  them.  Let 
the  day's  work  be  done  as  its  hours  are  passing.  Let 
it  have  something  of  completeness  in  it.  —  N.  L.  FROTH- 
INGHAM. 

Labor  is  man's  great  function.  He  is  nothing,  he 
can  be  nothing,  he  can  achieve  nothing,  he  can  fulfil 
nothing,  without  working.  —  ORVILLE  DEWEY. 

Lord,  we  would  work  while  life  shall  last, 

Would  toil  while  life  is  given ; 
Nor  let  us  faint  when  hardships  press, 

True  service  fits  for  Heaven. 
With  holy  zeal  we  would  go  on, 

Nor  ask  for  crown  or  palm ; 
Enough  for  us,  if  at  the  last 

We  chant  the  victor's  psalm. 

EVA   MUNSON   SMITH. 

There  is  no  spirituality  at  all  without  use.  Spiritual- 
ity begins,  continues,  and  culminates  in  use.  To  be 
genuinely  useful,  in  any  way,  is  to  be  so  far  spiritual. 
To  be  nobly,  comprehensively,  humanly  useful,  is  to  be 
spiritual  in  a  grand  way.  —  o.  B.  FROTHINGHAM. 

Is  there  no  action  worth  my  mood, 
No  deed  of  daring,  high  and  pure, 
That  shall,  when  I  am  dead,  endure, 

A  well-spring  of  perpetual  good  ? 

THOMAS   BAILEY   ALDRICH. 
A I4  [209] 


JULY   TWENTY-SECOND. 

I  TELL  you  the  future  can  hold  no  terrors 
For  any  sad  soul  while  the  stars  revolve : 
If  he  will  but  stand  firm  on  the  grave  of  his  errors, 
And  instead  of  regretting,  resolve,  resolve  ! 

ELLA   WHEELER   WILCOX. 


"  What  can't  be  cured,  must  be  endured,"  is  a  good 
old  maxim,  and  teaches  a  lesson  worth  remembering. 
If,  instead  of  worrying  because  our  plans  have  failed, 
and  because  we  have  made  mistakes,  and  our  neighbor 
has  misjudged  and  ill-treated  us,  we  would  only  resolve 
to  go  forward,  manfully,  cheerfully,  making  the  best  of 
it  all,  how  much  happier  we  should  be!  The  man  who 
will  hold  up  his  head  in  the  face  of  troubles  and  dis- 
couragements, and  take  life  as  it  comes,  carries  a  brave 
spirit  and  a  light  heart! 

I  like  the  man  who  faces  what  he  must 
With  step  triumphant,  and  a  heart  of  cheer, 
Who  fights  the  daily  battle  without  fear ; 

Sees  his  hopes  fail,  yet  keeps  unfaltering  trust 

That  God  is  God ;  that  somehow,  true  and  just 
His  plans  work  out  for  mortals ;  not  a  tear 
Is  shed  when  fortune,  which  the  world  holds  dear, 

Falls  from  his  grasp ;  better,  with  love,  a  crust 

Than  living  in  dishonor ;  envies  not, 

Nor  loses  faith  in  man ;  but  does  his  best, 

Nor  ever  murmurs  at  his  humble  lot, 

But  with  a  smile  and  words  of  hope,  gives  zest 

To  every  toiler ;  he  alone  is  great, 

Who  by  a  life  heroic  conquers  fate. 

SARAH   K.    BOLTON. 
[210] 


JULY   TWENTY-THIRD. 

GRANT  MEMORIAL  DAY. 

HIS  mantle,  fold  about  him  —  none  can  wear  it. 
His  sword,  lay  by  his  side  —  there's  none  to 

wield  it. 

Who  fought  for  Union's  life  triumphantly, 
Now  shorn  of  strength,  lies  at  his  Maker's  feet. 
A  world  bowed  o'er  a  grave,  is  wrapped  in  grief; 
A  Hero's  dead!     A  Chieftain's  fallen! 

EMILY  HAWTHORN. 

From  the  genius  of  our  government,  the  pathway  to 
honorable  distinction  lies  open  to  all.  No  post  of 
honor  so  high  but  the  poorest  boy  may  hope  to  reach 
it.  It  is  the  pride  of  every  American  that  many 
cherished  names,  at  whose  mention  our  hearts  beat 
with  a  quicker  bound,  were  worn  by  the  sons  of  poverty, 
who  conquered  obscurity  and  became  fixed  stars  in 
our  firmament.  —  JAMES  A.  GARFIELD. 

"  Let  us  have  peace." 

Great  heart,  that  peace  has  come  to  thee, 

Thy  sword  for  freedom  wrought, 

And  now  thy  sword  is  free ; 

The  huge  world  holds  to-day 
No  fame  so  great,  so  wide, 
As  his  whose  steady  eyes  grew  dim 
On  Mount  McGregor's  side. 

Moan  sullen  guns,  and  sigh 
For  the  greatest  who  could  die. 

FRANCES  E.  WILLARD 
[211] 


JULY   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

MOWING-TIME! 

MIDSUMMER  hours  are  coming  and  going, 
Midsummer  breezes  are  dreamily  blowing, 
Midsummer  meadows  the  reapers  are  mowing. 

I.  s.  T. 

Sweet  day  of  doom  in  the  meadow 

Most  redolent  day  abroad, 
When  grasses,  daises  and  clover 

All  die  like  the  Saints  of  God, 
And  fragrance  floats  in  the  sunshine 

And  eloquence  fills  the  sod. 

BENJAMIN  F.    TAYLOR. 

July  is  just  in  the  nick  of  time! 

(Hay-weather,  hay-weather ;) 
The  midsummer  month  is  the  golden  prime 
For  haycocks  smelling  of  clover  and  thyme ;  — 

(Swing  all  together!) 
July  is  just  in  the  nick  of  time! 

MYRON  W.   BENTON. 

If  you  can  only  learn  a  lesson  from  drowsy  old  July 
to-day,  midsummer  will  not  come  in  vain :  take  the 
little  motto  for  your  own,  and  keep  it  through  life, 
and  let  everything  you  do  be  based  upon  it  —  "just  in 
the  nick  of  time'.'1''  If  you  want  to  be  successful  in 
life,  if  you  want  to  do  a  good  deed,  or  make  headway 
in  any  direction,  carry  it  about  with  you,  and  act  upon 
it.  When  it  is  mowing-time  in  the  fields  of  your 
heart,  go  to  work  "just  in  the  nick  of  time,"  so  that 
the  good  seed  that  has  ripened  will  be  ready  for 
another  year's  growth. 

[212] 


M 


JULY   TWENTY-FIFTH. 
AY  this  be  a  day  of  loving  self-sacrifice ! 


Why  are  some  loved  in  life,  and  missed  in  death, 
while  others  are  not?  There  must  be  some  good  rea- 
son for  this.  Is  it  beauty?  Is  it  wealth?  Is  it  natural 
ability?  Is  it  position?  What  is  the  true  secret  of 
being  loved?  We  desire  the  good-will  and  affection 
of  our  fellows.  None  of  us  wish  to  depart  this  life 
"  unwept,  unhonored  and  unsung." 

"It  is  self-sacrifice."  "  S.  S."  are  the  mystic  letters. 
Self-sacrifice  is  the  "  open  sesame  "  to  the  world's  heart. 
Love  and  you  will  be  loved.  Give  and  you  will  receive. 
Lose  your  life  and  you  will  gain  it.  No  one  loves  a 
selfish  person  but  himself.  When  he  dies  there  is  lit- 
tle sorrow,  for  he  leaves  no  sense  of  loss  in  other  lives. 

—  WILLIAM   E.    BRYCE. 

So  live  that  others  in  thy  memory 
May  find  a  solace  in  their  sore  distress, 

Some  gleam  of  hope  in  their  deep  wretchedness ; 
So  shalt  thou  live  in  ages  yet  to  be. 

HENRY   HAMILTON. 

For  others'  sake !     O  strong !     O  sweet ! 

O  common  tie !  that  binds  our  way 
To  God's  great  throne,  when  we  repeat 

In  such  small  measure  as  we  may 
The  earth-life  of  his  own  dear  Son, 

Who  lived  and  died  for  others'  sake, 
For  others'  sake  God's  heaven  won 

By  cross  and  curse  none  else  could  take. 

MARIA   W.   JONES. 
[213] 


JULY   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

THE  eternal  God  is  thy  refuge,  and  underneath  are 
the  everlasting  arms.  — DEUTERONOMY  33  : 27. 


Oh,  how  sweet  it  is  to  feel  that  there  is  a  refuge  near 
when  we  are  weary  and  heart-sick  and  distressed!  To 
know  that  the  Everlasting  Arms  are  strong  and  true 
and  willing.  To  be  assured  though  we  are  so  weak 
and  helpless,  that  there  is  One  who  can  supply  all 
needful  strength  and  bear  us  up  through  every  trial. 

To  Thine  eternal  arms,  O  God, 

Take  us,  Thine  erring  children,  in ; 
From  dangerous  paths  too  boldly  trod, 

From  wandering  thoughts  and  dreams  of  sin. 

Those  arms  were  round  our  childish  ways, 
A  guard  through  helpless  years  to  be ; 

Oh,  leave  not  our  maturer  days, 
We  still  are  helpless  without  Thee. 

THOMAS  WENTWORTH   HIGGINSON. 

"  The  Everlasting  Arms."  I  think  of  that  whenever 
rest  is  sweet.  How  the  whole  earth  and  the  strength 
of  it,  that  is  almightiness,  is  beneath  every  tired  creat- 
ure to  give  it  rest ;  holding  us,  always !  No  thought  of 
God  is  closer  than  that.  — MRS.  A.  D.  T.  WHITNEY. 

Within  Thy  circling  arms  we  lie, 
O  God!  in  Thy  infinity: 
Our  souls  in  quiet  shall  abide, 
Blest  with  love  on  every  side. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[214] 


JULY  TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

BRING  I  this  day  to  Thee, 
Humbly  and  gratefully, 
My  offering. 

MRS.    S.   M.   I.   HENRY. 

What  possibilities  lie  in  a  single  day !  And  yet  it  is 
often  accounted  of  so  little  value,  just  because  it  is  so 
short.  On  one  day  have  hinged  the  hopes  of  a  state ; 
on  one  day  have  hung  the  affairs  of  a  nation ;  on  one 
day  have  the  events  of  the  world  been  turned.  In  the 
little  town  of  Bethlehem,  many  years  ago,  there  dawned 
One  Day,  which  has  been  memorable  for  centuries  ;  for 
on  it  was  born  the  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  mankind.  On 
One  Day,  thirty-three  years  after,  the  light  of  the  sun 
was  hidden,  because  it  was  the  most  sorrowful  day  ever 
known,  and  Nature's  heart  seemed  to  grieve  over  the 
crucifixion  of  the  Lord.  But  lo,  in  three  days  what  a 
change!  then  indeed  came  a  time  of  rejoicing  —  a  Day 
of  days  which  dawned  in  Peace,  Light,  and  Victory  to 
all  the  world.  Oh,  when  you  talk  of  a  day  as  if  it  were 
insignificant,  remember  these  things.  Make  this  day 
an  epoch  in  your  life ;  give  it,  as  a  precious  offering,  to 
God. 

A  cup  of  water  given 

This  day,  for  love  of  Him ; 
A  word  of  cheer  to  some  faint  heart, 

Whose  sky  of  hope  is  dim  ; 
Though  thine  own  heart  be  sad, 

Still,  still,  to  trust,  to  pray  — 
These,  these,  may  thus  be  thine  to  do, 

For  His  dear  sake,  this  day. 

MRS.   A.    M.    TOMLINSON. 


JULY  TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

SOME  one  has  said,  "Justice  is  truth  in  action"; 
justice  must  certainly  have  a  kinship  with  truth, 
for  to  be  perfectly  just  one  must  be  true  —  true  to  his 
convictions  of  right  and  wrong,  and  honest  in  his 
opinions.  May  your  reason  and  conscience  teach  you 
to  be  just  in  all  things ! 

Ay,  justice,  who  evades  her? 

Her  scales  reach  every  heart ; 
The  action  and  the  motive, 

She  weigheth  each  apart ; 
And  none,  who  swerve  from  right  and  truth 

Can  'scape  her  penalty! 

SARAH   J.    HALE. 

Law  is  not  law,  if  it  violates  the  principles  of  eternal 

justice. — LYDIA   MARIA  CHILD. 

We  know  not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth,  but  we 
know  that  Eternity  will  bring  everlasting  peace.  High 
in  the  heavens,  the  pole-star  of  the  world,  shines  Jus- 
tice ;  placed  within,  as  our  guide  thereto,  is  Conscience. 
Let  us  be  faithful  to  that 
"  Which,  though  it  trembles  as  it  lowly  dies, 

Points  to  the  light  that  changes  not  in  Heaven." 

THEODORE   PARKER. 

We  may  be  personally  defeated,  but  our  principles 
never!  Truth,  Justice,  Reason,  Humanity,  must  and 
will  gloriously  triumph.  —  WILLIAM  LLOYD  GARRISON. 

Nothing  will  suffice  as  a  rule  of  judgment  in  the  treat- 
ment of  others  but  a  reverence  for  clear  principles,  as 
a  higher  law  than  personal  tastes  or  wishes.  —  SAMUEL 

JOHNSON. 

[216] 


JULY   TWENTY-NINTH. 

T  T  7HEN  I  behold  what  pleasure  is  pursuit, 

'  •     What  life,  what  glorious  eagerness  it  is  ; 
Then  mark  how  full  Possession  falls  from  this, 
How  fairer  seems  the  blossom  than  the  fruit  — 
I  am  perplexed. 

THOMAS   BAILEY  ALDRICH. 

It  makes  a  vast  difference  what  we  pursue,  whether 
we  are  disappointed  or  not.  If  it  were  mere  worldly 
pleasure,  the  greatest  enjoyment  lies  in  the  pursuit ;  if 
it  is  riches,  few  who  have  massed  great  wealth  would 
say  the  possession  brought  as  much  real  pleasure  as  the 
steady,  day-by-day  accumulation  of  it ;  energy,  enthu- 
siasm, and  hope  doubtless  brought  more  happiness  than 
the  attainment  of  the  fortune  itself. 

My  boyhood  chased  the  butterfly, 

Or,  when  the  shower  was  gone, 
Sought  treasures  at  the  rainbow's  end, 

That  lured  me,  wandering  on. 
I  caught  no  bow  nor  butterfly, 

Though  eagerly  I  ran ; 
But  in  the  chase  I  found  myself 

And  grew  to  be  a  man. 

In  later  years  I've  chased  the  good, 

The  beautiful  and  true  ; 
Mirage-like  forms  which  take  no  shape, 

They  flit  as  I  pursue. 
But,  while  the  endless  chase  I  run, 

I  grow  in  life  divine : 
I  miss  the  ideals  that  I  seek, 

But  God  himself  is  mine. 

MINOT  JUDSON  SAVAGE. 
[217] 


JULY   THIRTIETH. 

/^CAREFULNESS  is  very  essential  in  whatever  we 
V*»  do  in  this  life.  We  must  not  only  work,  but  watch. 
We  cannot  afford  to  be  half-way  in  anything.  The 
whole-hearted  man  is  the  one  who  succeeds  in  this 
world  —  he  who  puts  energy  and  enthusiasm,  persever- 
ance and  concentration  into  his  task,  and  who  is 
constantly  on  the  alert  lest  some  slight  thing  should 
interfere  with  its  progress.  So  it  should  be  with  our 
character:  let  us  take  care  then  that  the  threads  of 
untruth  or  discontent  shall  not  creep  in  and  spoil  the 
fabric  we  are  weaving  for  Eternity. 


With  wondrous  skill,  in  the  crowded  mill, 

The  spinner  her  shuttle  plies, 
And  watches  the  web  with  fear  and  dread, 

As  it  forms  beneath  her  eyes  ; 
For  well  she  knows  that  one  rotten  thread, 

Inwove  in  these  even  bands, 
Will  be  traced  through  the  fabric  far  and  near 

As  the  work  of  her  careless  hands. 

In  the  mill  of  life,  full  of  noise  and  strife, 

We  each  have  a  weaver's  part, 
And  the  web  of  each  day,  by  the  passion's  play, 

Is  wove  with  a  curious  art ; 
But  if,  false  to  ourselves  and  our  Master's  name, 

We  fashion  the  fabric  thin, 
And  with  its  tissue  blend  the  sable  threads 

Of  slothfulness  and  sin, 
To  our  own  account  will  the  mischief  come, 

And  take  from  each  joy  its  hoarded  sum. 

MARY   E.    MIXER. 

[218] 


JULY   THIRTY-FIRST. 

Dining  hours  without  their  shade," 
True  Wisdom  cries  ; 
"  And  shadows  into  light  shall  fade," 

True  Faith  replies ; 
For  God  hath  made  both  light  and  shade 

A  pathway  to  the  skies. 
Had  earth  no  shade,  thou  sorrowing  one, 
Oh,  then,  in  Heaven,  there  were  no  sun. 

EDWARD   R.    CAMPBELL. 

July  has  nearly  passed  away,  freighted  with  a  multi- 
tude of  joys  and  sorrows ;  and  over  the  hills  of  Time 
she  will  bear  the  record  of  her  brief,  departed  days. 
Look  backward  and  be  thankful.  If  you  have  had 
trouble  and  perplexities  and  cares  and  grief,  remember 
Who  allowed  you  to  bear  them,  and  reflect  on  how 
much  worse  they  might  have  been.  There  was  never 
a  time  so  dark  that  you  could  not  find  a  ray  of  light 
somewhere  ;  there  was  always  sure  to  be  a  little  chink 
left  for  it  to  shine  through.  This  was  a  special  bless- 
ing God  had  in  reserve  for  you,  though  perhaps  you 
did  not  realize  it  until  afterwards.  Thank  God  for  life 
every  day  you  live! 

But  yet,  my  Father,  life  is  dear  to  me, 

As  through  its  mazy  paths  I  pass  along ; 
The  beauty  and  the  harmony  I  see 

Inspire  my  spirit  with  a  gush  of  song. 
My  heart  is  swelling  with  a  wild  delight, 

Its  chords  are  touched  to  many  a  thrilling  strain, 
As  all  earth's  beauty  bursts  upon  my  sight,  — 

To  try  to  sing  the  half  I  feel  were  vain. 

MRS.   A.    H.    BINGHAM. 
[219] 


OR  THE   MONTH 
OF  AUGUST  - 


AUGUST  FIRST. 

GREAT  waves  of  plenty  rolling  up 
Their  golden  billows  to  our  feet, 
Fields  where  the  ungathered  rye  is  white, 
Or  heavy  with  the  yellow  wheat  ; 

Wealth  surging  inward  from  the  sea, 
And  plenty  through  our  land  abroad, 

With  sunshine  resting  over  all  : 
That  everlasting  smile  of  God! 

PHCEBE   GARY. 


All  silent  she  steals  in  among  us,  —  quiet,  dreamy 
August,  following  close  on  the  footsteps  of  daisy- 
crowned  July.  The  poppy  blazes  in  the  sunshine,  the 
grain-fields  are  ripening  into  golden  splendor,  and  the 
butterflies  and  humming-birds  seemed  to  have  gathered 
the  gorgeousness  of  Nature's  loveliest  hues  and  im- 
prisoned them  within  their  folded  wings.  It  is  a  time 
of  silent,  steady  progress,  of  almost  imperceptible 
growth,  rather  than  the  vigorous  activity  which  comes 
with  dawning  Spring  and  early  Summer.  Thou,  too, 
O  Human  Heart,  remember  that  in  the  quiet  work 
and  silent  realm  of  Thought,  thou  canst  still  go  on  to 
perfection.  Do  thy  best,  and  wait;  the  Master  will 
make  ready  thy  corn  and  wine,  and  thou  shalt  receive 
thy  just  reward. 

[220] 


LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT 

1832-1888 


AUGUST  SECOND. 

AUGUST  brings  the  snowy  lilies, 
Clad  in  robes  of  spotless  white, 
Walking  like  a  queen  among  them  — 

As  she  flings  them  left  and  right : 
Lilies  pure  and  lovely  crown  her, 

And  her  dress  in  ev'ry  fold 
Wears  the  semblance  of  a  lily, 
'•    In  its  dream  of  white  and  gold. 

I.   S.  T. 

May  peace  and  purity  possess  your  heart  to-day! 
The  gardens,  fields,  and  highways  ara»aflame  with 
bright,  rich  Summer  flowers,  but  among  chem  in  stately 
silence  bloom  the  fair  white  lilies,  shedding  rare  per- 
fume around  them,  and  holding  up  their  waxen  cups 
for  the  sunshine  and  the  dews  of  Heaven. 

"  Unto  the  pure  all  things  are  pure ; "  and  so 
The  lily's  cup  is  pure  as  unsullied  snow. 
Its  heart's  sweet  innocence,  its  home  of  love, 
Its  likeness  here  below  to  Heaven  above, 
Safe  from  rude  winds,  its  sweetness  folded  up, 
Best  of  all  dwellings  is  a  lily's  cup. 

MAUDE   MOORE. 

We  read  of  thee  in  sacred  story, 

Reflections  of  God's  face, 
Not  Solomon  arrayed  in  glory 

Could  match  thy  peerless  grace. 

White-robed  and  fair  in  purity, 
With  half-hid  golden  heart, 

Enshrined  in  virgin  sanctity, 
Sweet  emblems  of  God's  art. 

MARIAN   DALANA   DANIEL. 
[221] 


AUGUST   THIRD. 

NOT  what  we  have  done  avails  us, 
But  what  we  do  and  are  ; 
We  turn  from  the  deed  that  is  setting, 
And  steer  for  the  rising  star. 

J.    T.    TROWBRIDGE. 

God's  promises  are  not  for  yesterday,  but  for  to-day 
and  to-morrow.  Especially  are  they  intended  for  the 
present,  for  we  may  have  but  this  one  day :  how  many 
have  been  worried  and  anxious  about  the  promises  of 
to-morrow,  not  knowing  that  for  them  it  would  never 
come.  We  often  load  ourselves  with  unnecessary  bur- 
dens. If  we  could  only  learn  to  bear  the  ills  of  to-day 
without  imagining  those  of  to-morrow,  how  much  bet- 
ter it  would  be  for  us.  Emerson  says, 
"  Some  of  your  hurts  you  have  cured, 

And  the  sharpest  you  still  have  survived, 
But  what  torments  of  grief  you  endured 
From  evils  which  never  arrived." 

Though  faded  joys  shall  nevermore  return, 

Neither  shall  faded  griefs,  the  first  or  last, 
And  time's  true  heir  is  of  the  present  born. 

JAMES  BENJAMIN   KENYON. 

Do  not  crouch  to-day  and  worship 

The  old  Past  whose  life  is  fled : 
Hush  your  voice  with  tender  reverence  ; 

Crowned  he  lies,  but  cold  and  dead : 
For  the  Present  reigns  our  monarch, 

With  an  added  weight  of  hours : 
Honor  her,  for  she  is  mighty! 

Honor  her,  for  she  is  ours! 

ANONYMOUS. 
[222] 


AUGUST   FOURTH. 

IF  it  were  only  in  my  power  to  brighten  and  make 
beautiful  this  day  for  you,  how  gladly  would  I  do 
so!  To  speak  a  comforting  word,  to  inspire  you  with 
renewed  strength  and  courage  —  ah,  this  would  indeed 
give  me  inexpressible  pleasure.  But  I  can,  at  least, 
point  you  to  some  of  God's  bright  little  messengers 
that  He  has  sent  into  the  world  to  speak  for  Him,  and 
pour  the  balm  of  heart's-ease  into  tired,  discouraged, 
aching  hearts.  Therefore,  I  commission  the  pansies 
to  carry  you  a  heavenly  message  to-day.  Can  any 
one  be  sad  who  looks  into  their  faces?  Learn  from 
them  the  sweet  lesson  of  happiness  and  content,  and 
go  out  into  the  world  to  comfort  others,  forgetting  self, 
to  be  a  heavenly  heart's-ease  of  all  mankind. 

O  Pansies,  lovely  Pansies, 

That  bloom  with  sweetest  grace, 
Ye  carry  hope  and  gladness 

In  ev'ry  witching  face, 
And  speak  a  silent  language, 

With  pleading  undertone  — 
Whose  tender,  hidden  meaning 

No  other  flower  has  known. 

Bloom  on,  O  velvet  Pansies! 

Your  silent  peace  impart ; 
Outpour  the  balm  of  healing  — 

The  heart's-ease  of  the  heart  — 
Outbreathe  your  dewy  incense, 

Draw  sweetness  from  the  sod  ; 
Ye  are  the  smiles  of  Heaven, 

Ye  are  the  thoughts  of  God ! 

IDA   SCOTT  TAYLOR. 
[223] 


AUGUST   FIFTH. 

JUST  in  proportion  as  a  man  becomes  good,  divine, 
Christ-like,  he  passes  out  of  the  region  of  theorizing 
into  the  region  of  benevolent  activities.     It  is  good  to 
think  well ;  it  is  divine  to  act  well.  —  HORACE  MANN. 

Some  high  or  humble  enterprise  of  good 
Contemplate  till  it  shall  possess  thy  mind, 
Become  thy  study,  pastime,  rest  and  food, 
And  kindle  in  thy  heart  a  flame  refined ; 
Pray  Heaven  for  firmness  thy  whole  soul  to  bind 
To  this  thy  purpose  — 

Rouse  to  some  work  of  high  and  holy  love, 
And  thou  an  angel's  happiness  shalt  know,  — 
Shalt  bless  the  earth ;  while,  in  the  world  above, 
The  good  begun  by  thee  shall  onward  flow 
In  many  a  branching  stream,  and  wider  grow ; 
The  seed  that  in  these  few  and  fleeting  hours, 
Thy  hands  unsparing  and  unwearied  sow, 
Shall  deck  thy  grave  with  amaranthine  flowers, 
And  yield  thee  fruits  divine  in  Heaven's  immortal 
bowers. 

CARLOS  WILCOX. 

When  we  read  of  a  beautiful  life  ended,  and  hear  the 
kind  words  said  concerning  it,  we  think  it  would  be  a 
grand  thing  to  leave  such  a  record,  and  such  an  influ- 
ence behind  us.  A  diamond  might  lie  forever  in  dark- 
ness, and  no  one  would  know  of  its  lustre  if  it  were  not 
polished.  So  if  we  would  shine  in  the  hearts  of  men 
forever,  we  must  come  into  the  Light  of  God's  love  and 
be  refined  and  polished  :  a  soul  that  catches  the  lustre 
of  Heaven  cannot  be  darkened. 
[224] 


AUGUST   SIXTH. 

BROOD  not  on  words  or  slights,  their  biting  force 
Is  measured  by  their  housing — mischief-seeds 
Which,  nursed  and  tended,  bring  forth  poison-weeds 
Whose  bitter  crop  is  hatred  and  remorse. 

w.  w.  MARTIN. 


Cherish  no  ill-will  against  any  one.  The  Master 
said,  "  Be  kindly  affectioned  one  to  another,"  and  while 
you  are  harboring  unkind  thoughts,  it  is  impossible 
for  you  to  be  "  kindly  affectioned."  People  have  been 
known  to  belong  to  the  same  church,  the  same  society, 
or — I  grieve  to  say  it  —  the  same  family,  who  meet 
each  other  day  after  day,  year  after  year,  and  do  not 
speak,  because  of  a  word  or  act  which  their  unforgiving 
heart  treasures  up  and  broods  over  as  if  it  were  a 
precious  thing.  And  yet  these  same  people  call  them- 
selves followers  of  Christ,  and  profess  to  belong  to  the 
Household  of  Faith.  Oh,  if  we  are  all  to  be  one  family 
in  Heaven,  how  shall  such  as  these  stand  before  the 
Throne  together  with  the  sin  of  unforgiveness  between 
them  ?  Bear  a  grudge  against  no  man.  We  have  much 
to  be  forgiven,  then  let  us  be  ready  to  forgive  others. 

Mortals  mourn  over  losses  — 

Pleasures  long  perished  while  sorrows  remain ; 
Here  are  no  shoulders  unburdened  by  crosses, 

Eyelids  untear-stained  or  hearts  without  pain ! 
But  when  the  angel  calls  all  souls  before  Him 

Who  is  the  brightness  and  glory  of  Heaven, 
Then  shall  we  know  as  we  bow  and  adore  Him, 

All  things  are  sure  to  the  spirit  forgiven! 

SIMEON   TUCKER   CLARK. 
A  IS  [225] 


AUGUST   SEVENTH. 

YOU  can  never  be  half  grateful  enough  for  the  in- 
fluence of  a  good  mother.  Whatever  success 
you  may  achieve  in  life,  whatever  good  you  may  have 
in  you,  is  due  to  her  gentle  teachings ;  for  a  good 
mother  is  the  guiding  star  of  her  child.  With  what 
tenderness,  patience,  and  loving  solicitude  she  has 
watched  over  and  guarded  you  during  your  childhood, 
shared  the  sweet  secrets  of  your  youth,  and  with  quiet 
sympathy  and  deep  concern,  has  comforted  and  coun- 
selled you  in  your  later  years.  America's  noblest  sons 
owe  their  nobility  to  the  influence  of  a  good  mother ; 
America's  loveliest  daughters  can  attribute  their  graces 
of  mind  and  heart  to  her  development  and  cultivation. 
All  honor  to  the  true-souled  Christian  mother!  —  she 
has  made  our  country  what  it  is  to-day! 

Thus  shall  a  mother's  love  refine 
Thy  heart's  best  gold,  till  it  will  shine 
Like  roses  with  bright  dew  weighed  down, 
Like  jewels  burnished  for  a  crown ! 
And  selfishness  shall  melt  away, 
And  truer,  grander  thoughts  bear  sway ; 
Devotion's  incense  shall  arise 
From  thy  heart's  altar  to  the  skies, 
And  thou  wilt  prove  how  great  and  good 
Is  God's  sweet  gift  of  motherhood. 

EMILY   P.    WILLIAMS. 

'Tis  something  great  to  be  a  queen, 

And  bend  a  kingdom  to  a  woman's  will ; 

To  be  a  mother  such  as  mine,  I  ween, 
Is  something  better  and  more  noble  still. 

MAY   RILEY   SMITH. 

[226] 


AUGUST   EIGHTH. 

FOR  each  soul  has  one  inner  room 
Where  all  alone  it  seeks  the  grace 
To  struggle  with  the  sharpest  woe, 

Its  hardest  destiny  to  face, 
To  lift  the  duty  that  it  fears, 

To  love,  to  trust,  through  every  doom, 
And  not  the  nearest,  dearest  heart 
Goes  with  it  to  that  inner  room. 

ANONYMOUS. 

How  fares  it  with  us  ?  —  O  my  Friend  ? 

THOMAS   BAILEV   ALDRICH. 

Let  us  go  to  the  inner  room  of  our  soul  to-day  and 
hold  a  little  communion  season.  How  fares  it  with 
you,  and  with  me?  Has  the  season  been  a  good  one 
with  us?  will  it  yield  an  abundant  harvest?  Perhaps 
there  was  too  much  drouth  :  perhaps  we  did  not  drink 
deep  enough  from  the  Living  Fountain  to  keep  the 
inner  soil  moist.  Or  maybe  it  was  the  other  way : 
perhaps  we  did  not  get  enough  heavenly  sunshine, 
and  this  may  have  retarded  the  growth  of  our  soul's 
harvest.  "How  fares  it  with  us?"  God  knows.  I 
only  trust  that  as  we  sit  in  silence  within  this  inner 
room  to-day,  we  may  find  out  why  we  are  not  progress- 
ing as  we  ought,  and  may  not  come  empty-handed  to 
the  Master  when  the  Summer  is  past  and  over. 

Ye  toilers  in  the  Master's  field, 
Where  others  labored  long ; 

The  sturdy  arm  of  effort  wield, 
Still  steadfast  be,  and  strong. 

MARY   C.    WEBSTER. 
[837] 


AUGUST   NINTH. 

WE  could  not  help  but  sing, 
There  was    such    beauty   in    the   Earth    and 

Heaven, 
Such  music  in  our  hearts,  such  joy  in  everything. 

WILLIAM   DAVIS   GALLAGHER. 

How  can  people  help  seeing  beauty  when  it  is  all 
around  them  ?  We  cannot  turn  our  eyes  in  any  direc- 
tion but  we  behold  wondrous  and  beautiful  things. 
The  writer  was  once  entertained  by  a  family  of  Swiss 
people,  who  had  come  over  to  America,  and,  after  a 
few  years  of  good  management  and  economy,  had 
amassed  a  fortune  and  erected  an  elegant  residence. 
The  mansion  stood  on  the  top  of  a  beautiful  knoll  over- 
looking a  broad  strip  of  country,  as  picturesque  and 
lovely  a  landscape  as  one  could  wish  to  see.  One 
could  not  help  exclaiming  over  the  view  from  the  win- 
dows, looking  across  the  handsome  lawns,  down  the 
hedge-bordered  lanes,  and  beyond  to  the  sloping 
uplands,  and  clustering  groves,  but  the  hostess  only 
said  laughingly,  "Is  it  beautiful,  do  you  think?  I 
never  have  time  to  look  at  it.  The  cares  of  the  house 
require  my  constant  attention,  and  I  never  think  about 
outdoor  attractions."  Ah,  it  is  pitiful  to  be  so  hampered 
that  we  may  not  see  what  a  magnificent  world  God  has 
made  for  us ! 

The  fountain  of  Beauty  is  the  heart,  and  every  gen- 
erous thought  illustrates  the  walls  of  its  chambers.  — 

RALPH   WALDO   EMERSON. 

To  cultivate  the  sense  of  the  beautiful  is  one  of  the 
most  effectual  ways  of  cultivating  an  appreciation  of 
the  divine  goodness.  —  BOVEE. 

[228] 


AUGUST  TENTH. 

IT  is  not  what  we  take  up,  but  what  we  give  up,  that 
makes  us  rich.  ...     It  is  the  heart  that  makes  the 
man  rich.     He  is  rich  or  poor  according  to  what  he  is, 
not  according  to  what  he  has.  —  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 


What  are  your  riches  ?  Have  you  the  gold  of  a  true 
heart,  an  unselfish  nature,  a  sweet  forgiving  disposition, 
a  kindly  charity,  a  spirit  of  contentment?  Then  you 
are  rich  beyond  measure.  Have  you  the  wealth  of  a 
sound  mind,  a  strong  body,  and  a  pure  soul?  What 
great  possessions  are  yours!  May  the  gold  within  you 
be  a  blessing  to  all  the  world  —  you  cannot  be  too 
lavish  with  it :  keep  giving  it  away :  put  it  out  at  inter- 
est and  it  will  double  its  value  in  a  short  time. 


Be  worthy  of  thyself,  O  Gold! 

By  brain  outwrought, 

By  soft  heart  taught ; 

Call  Charity  to  work  with  thee, 
And  so  be  better  than  thy  mould. 

ETHEL   LYNN  BEERS. 


Better  than  all  that  is  born  of  gold, 
Better  is  health  by  a  thousand  fold ; 
Better  is  virtue,  and  hope,  and  rest, 
Better  is  love,  as  a  faithful  guest. 

To  have  a  heart  that's  warm  within ; 

To  have  a  life  unstained  by  sin ; 

To  dare  the  right  with  courage  bold, 

Is  better  far  than  hoarding  gold. 

VIRGIL  A.    PINKLEY. 

[229] 


AUGUST   ELEVENTH. 

SWEET  souls  around  us !  watch  us  still, 
Press  nearer  to  our  side, 
Into  our  thoughts,  into  our  prayers, 
With  gentle  helpings  glide. 

HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE. 


We  are  ever  enfolded  in  the  hallowed  influence  of 
our  departed  ones.  Memory  keeps  fresh  and  fair  the 
record  of  a  beautiful  life,  and  engraves  it  upon  the  tab- 
lets of  our  heart.  How  often  some  little  association 
brings  back  a  well-remembered  characteristic  so  viv- 
idly, that  we  feel  comforted  through  the  reminder :  it  is 
somewhat  akin  to  the  real  presence.  We  cannot  for- 
get, if  we  would.  Memory  guards  with  tender  care  her 
own ;  nothing  can  shut  out  the  pure,  sweet  influence 
of  lives  that  were  beautiful,  good,  and  true. 

We  may  leave  the  garden,  and  bar  the  gate ; 
Put  an  angel  there,  with  a  sword,  to  wait ; 
But  what  can  the  bars  or  the  angel  do 
To  keep  the  fragrance  from  stealing  thro'  ? 

MARIA   LOUISA   EVE. 

Lips  from  which  the  seal  of  silence 

None  but  God  can  roll  away, 
Never  blossomed  in  such  beauty 

As  adorns  the  mouth  to-day ; 
And  sweet  words  that  freight  our  memory 

With  their  beautiful  perfume, 
Come  to  us  in  sweeter  accents 

Through  the  portals  of  the  tomb. 

MAY   RILEY   SMITH. 
[=30] 


AUGUST   TWELFTH. 

T)ATIENCE  accomplishes  wonders.  Content  with 
A  being  slow  and  plodding,  she  steadily  keeps  at  a 
task,  step  by  step,  progressing  a  little  at  a  time,  until 
her  work  is  done.  Through  patience,  the  astronomer 
has  traversed  the  celestial  world,  and  traced  the  course 
of  the  heavenly  bodies :  through  patience  the  navi- 
gator has  sailed  the  stormy  seas  and  made  discoveries 
that  have  broadened  the  kingdoms  and  enriched  the 
treasuries  of  the  nations  :  through  patience  the  geolo- 
gist has  penetrated  the  crust  of  the  earth  and  brought 
to  light  hidden  wealth ;  and  through  patience  the 
inventor  has  wrought  out  marvellous  things  for  the 
good  of  mankind.  There  is  little  done  in  this  world 
worth  doing,  without  patience.  Let  us  cultivate  it ;  it 
will  help  us  through  many  difficulties,  trials,  and  temp- 
tations :  it  will  make  us  better  fitted  for  Heaven. 

Learn  patience  from  the  lesson! 

Though  the  night  be  drear  and  long, 
To  the  darkest  sorrow  there  comes  a  morrow, 

A  right  to  every  wrong. 

J.   T.   TROWBRIDGE. 

O  Nature !  bare  thy  loving  breast, 
And  give  thy  child  one  hour  of  rest,  — 
One  little  hour  to  lie  unseen 
Beneath  thy  scarf  of  leafy  green! 

So,  curtained  by  a  singing  pine, 

Its  murmuring  voice  shall  blend  with  mine, 

Till  lost  in  dreams,  my  faltering  lay 

In  sweeter  music  dies  away. 

HOLMES. 

[231] 


AUGUST  THIRTEENTH. 

LET  this  day  bear  witness  that  you  were  faithful  in 
duties  small  and  great. 


Oh !  slow  of  heart  to  learn  this  simple  truth  - 
Thy  loyalty  and  love  thou  may'st  attest 

By  little  deeds  within  a  narrow  sphere, 
Nor  vainly  roam  of  broader  fields  in  quest. 

MARY   P.    ROBERTS. 


Little  whispered  words  can  strike 
Cruel  blows  at  heart  of  friends, 

Little  signs  be  auguries 

Of  great  changes  in  the  state. 

Little  habits  grow  to  chains 

Which  can  fetter  man's  strong  will ; 
Little  kindnesses  may  heal, 

Little  helps  may  save  a  soul ; 
Little  hands  for  woe  or  weal 

Can  the  sternest  lives  control ; 
Fortunes  start  from  petty  gains  ; 

Every  river  has  a  rill. 

"Small,"  we  say,  "of  little  worth," 

Heedless  what  the  end  shall  be ; 
But  the  angels  sadly  sigh 

Over  what  we  so  despise, 
And  the  small  faults  we  decry 

Bring  a  cloud  to  heavenly  eyes, 
And  the  petty  deeds  of  earth 

Mould  the  long  eternity. 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

[232] 


AUGUST   FOURTEENTH. 

FOR  the  beautiful  theme  of  my  thrilling  song 
Is  that  Right  shall  be  victor  at  last  o'er  Wrong! 

A.    A.    HOPKINS. 

We  all  have  more  or  less  pride  in  us,  and  if  it  is  not 
selfish,  foolish  pride,  it  is  right  that  we  should  have  it. 
Self-respect  might  perhaps  be  called  pride,  and  yet  if 
we  make  ourselves  worthy  of  respect,  why  should  we 
not,  in  a  modest  way,  realize  the  fact?  If  a  man  has 
no  respect  for  himself,  he  need  not  expect  it  of  others. 
Appreciation  of  our  own  talents  might  also  be  looked 
upon  as  pride,  by  some,  but  if  God  has  endowed  us 
with  a  special  gift,  are  we  honoring  Him  if  we  fail  to 
recognize  it,  cultivate  it,  and  be  thankful  for  it?  Let 
us  be  careful  not  to  take  the  glory  to  ourselves.  The 
right  will  always  prevail,  if  we  obey  the  monitions  of 
conscience,  and  keep  ourselves  free  from  vanity  and 
self-righteousness.  Temptations  come  to  us  in  so 
many  forms ;  a  soldier  on  the  lookout  for  the  enemy 
has  not  more  need  of  vigilance  than  we :  and  if  we 
sometimes  fail,  it  is  because  we  are  not  watchful,  and 
lose  sight  of  God  and  the  Right. 

Keep  holy  watch  with  silence,  prayer  and  fasting, 
Ere  morning  break  and  all  the  bugles  play ; 

Unto  the  One  aware  from  everlasting 

Dear  are  the  winners  :  thou  art  more  than  they. 

Forth  from  this  peace  on  manhood's  way  thou  goest, 
Flushed  with  desire,  and  glorious  with  mail ; 

Blessing  supreme  for  men  unborn  thou  sowest. 
O  knight  elect!     O  soul  ordained  to  fail! 

LOUISE   IMOGEN   GUINEY. 
[233] 


AUGUST  FIFTEENTH. 

ON  the  wild  rose-tree 
Many  buds  there  be, 
Yet  each  sunny  hour 
Hath  one  perfect  flower. 
Thou  who  would'st  be  wise, 
Open  wide  thine  eyes  — 
In  each  sunny  hour 
Pluck  the  one  perfect  flower. 

RICHARD  WATSON  GILDER. 

Direct  your  energies  in  the  pursuit  of  the  most  per- 
fect things.  Aim  high  if  you  would  be  uplifted.  Seek 
the  best  if  you  would  become  better.  Allow  nothing 
that  is  good  to  pass  you  by  without  getting  a  share  of 
it.  Always  find  the  best  side  in  your  neighbor's  char- 
acter :  do  not  look  for  the  evil.  A  man  usually  finds 
what  he  looks  for,  if  he  is  only  diligent  in  seeking. 
Share  your  wealth  with  others ;  enrich  other  lives,  and 
uplift  other  souls. 

Streams  from  a  sweet  fountain  must  sweetness  distil ; 

Lives,  lovely  and  pure,  have  a  mission  to  fill ; 

And  thoughts  that  are  helpful  and  holy  and  true, 

Have  a  mission  as  well,  have  a  work  they  may  do. 

In  manifold  clusters,  o'er  woodland  and  lea, 

Sweet  blossoms  of  thought  wait  for  you  and  for  me. 

What  wreaths  we  might  fashion  for  young  brows  to 

wear, 

Did  we  gather  the  garlands  of  truth  everywhere! 
Did  we  from  our  bright  path  cull  brightness  and  bloom 
For  those  who  walk  only  in  shadow  and  gloom, 
What  rare  buds  of  blessing,  what  joy  we  might  bear, 
To  those  overburdened  with  sorrow  and  care. 

MARY  A.   LEAVITT. 
[234] 


AUGUST    SIXTEENTH. 

OEEK  your  life's  nourishment  in  your  life's  work. 

^  Do  not  think  that  after  you  have  bought  or  sold, 
or  studied  or  taught,  you  will  go  into  your  closet  and 
open  your  Bible  and  repair  the  damage  of  the  loss 
which  your  daily  life  has  left  you.  Do  those  things, 
certainly,  but  also  insist  that  your  buying,  or  selling, 
or  studying,  or  teaching  shall  itself  make  you  brave, 
patient,  pure,  and  holy.  Do  not  let  your  occupation 
pass  you  by  and  only  leave  you  the  basest  and  poorest 
of  its  benefits,  the  money  with  which  it  fills  your  purse. 
This  is  the  life  that,  indeed,  "  catches  the  quality  of  the 
life  of  God,"  and  still  is  a  life  possible  to  every  one  of 

US.  —  PHILLIPS   BROOKS. 

Work!  work!  though  wealth  may  surround  you 

Think  not  thy  labor  on  that  account  done ; 
Work  though  the  chaplet  of  honor  has  crowned  you, 

Thy  mission,  it  may  be,  is  only  begun ; 
Strive  to  attain  the  true  end  of  your  being, 

Find  to  do  good  both  a  way  and  a  will, 
Walk  in  uprightness  before  the  All-Seeing, 

And  while  the  day  lingers  keep  laboring  still. 

HENRY  H.   SAUNDERSON. 

Work  while  yet  the  daylight  shines, 

Man  of  strength  and  will ; 
Never  does  the  streamlet  glide 

Unless  by  the  mill. 
Wait  not  till  to-morrow's  sun 

Beams  upon  the  way ; 
All  that  thou  canst  call  thine  own 

Lies  in  thy  To-day. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[235] 


AUGUST   SEVENTEENTH. 

JOIN  with  Nature's  voice  in  praise  to-day!    Thank 
God  for  sunshine,  blue  sky,  and  blossoming  flowers, 
and  for  the  beautiful  world  which  He  has   made  for 
you. 

It's  O  my  heart,  my  heart, 

To  be  out  in  the  sun  and  sing! 
To  sing  and  shout  in  the  fields  about, 

In  the  balm  and  the  blossoming! 

Sing  loud,  O  bird  in  the  tree ! 

0  bird,  sing  loud  in  the  sky! 

And  honey-bees,  blacken  the  clover-bed, 
There  are  none  of  you  glad  as  I. 

The  leaves  laugh  low  in  the  wind, 

Laugh  low,  with  the  wind  at  play ; 
And  the  odorous  call  of  the  flowers  all 

Entices  my  soul  away! 

For  oh,  but  the  world  is  fair,  is  fair  — 

And  oh,  but  the  world  is  sweet! 
I  will  out  in  the  gold  of  the  blossoming  mould, 

And  sit  at  the  Master's  feet. 

And  the  love  my  heart  would  speak 

1  will  fold  in  the  lily's  rim, 

That  the  lips  of  the  blossoms,  more  pure  and  meek, 
May  offer  it  up  to  Him. 

Then  sing  in  the  hedge-row  green,  O  thrush! 

O  skylark,  sing  in  the  blue! 
Sing  loud,  sing  clear,  that  the  King  may  hear, 

And  my  soul  shall  sing  with  you ! 

INA   D.    COOLBRITH. 


AUGUST  EIGHTEENTH. 

'""T'0  "  cease  to  do  evil "  is  not  enough,  even  if  it  were 
-L  easily  accomplished.  "  Learn  to  do  well "  is  infi- 
nitely more  important,  and  that  means  to  learn  Christ. 
The  only  way  to  get  sin  out  of  your  life  is  to  get  the 
root  of  sin  out  of  your  heart,  and  the  only  sure  process 
is  to  give  Jesus  the  heart  and  enthrone  Him  there. 
As  Mark  Hopkins  well  said,  "The  beauty  on  the  sur- 
face of  daily  life  is  from  the  central  principle  within,  as 
the  beauty  on  the  cheek  of  health  is  from  the  central 
force  at  the  heart."  —  THEODORE  L.  CUYLER. 


Do  not  weary  in  well-doing, 
Take  this  motto  for  your  own  ; 

Know  a  word  in  kindness  spoken 
Oft  doth  melt  a  heart  of  stone. 

If  a  cup  of  water  even 

In  My  Name,  says  Christ  the  Lord, 
To  a  thirsty  soul  be  given, 

It  shall  reap  a  rich  reward. 

Do  not  weary  in  well-doing, 
And,  if  faithful  you  should  prove, 

You  will  hear  that  welcome  given, 
"  Enter  thou  into  My  love." 

MRS.   V.   A.   GIBSON. 


'Tis  not  to  great  and  mighty  deeds, 

God's  smile  is  always  given ; 
And  those  who  lowliest  walk  on  earth, 

May  brightest  shine  in  Heaven. 

EMILY   P.    WILLIAMS. 

[237] 


AUGUST  NINETEENTH. 

SET  your  face  Zionward  to-day.  Let  not  the  cares 
and  vexations  of  your  earthly  life  lead  you  away 
from  Christ.  Temptations  will  come  to  you  in  many 
ways  :  sometimes,  in  such  a  guise  that  you  will  scarcely 
recognize  them  as  temptations  at  all.  Yet,  it  is  these 
very  things  that  deceive  you,  and  tend  to  keep  you 
down.  If  you  are  filled  with  faith,  it  will  be  a  shield 
against  temptation.  Strengthen  your  will  and  stand 
firm. 

Be  firm !  whatever  tempts  thy  soul 
To  loiter  ere  it  reach  its  goal, 
Whatever  siren  voice  would  draw 
Thy  heart  from  duty  and  its  law, 
Oh!  that  distrust.     Go  bravely  on, 
And,  till  the  victor-crown  be  won, 
Be  firm! 

SARAH  C.  E.   MAYO. 

Life's  a  trial  till  it  closes ; 

Grace  descends  to  crown  each  hour ; 
And  he  who  on  Heaven  reposes 

Triumphs  over  evil's  power. 

WILLIAM  FORD. 

Brave  all  temptations,  they  I  know  but  make 

More  resolute  thy  will,  thy  soul  more  fair. 

When  thou  hast  searched  the  universe  all  through, 

And  failed  alone  to  find  the  central  thought, 

Watch  where  the  needle  points,  —  'twill  lead  thee  true : 

Gain  thou  this  knowledge  howe'er  dearly  bought, 

That  thou,  the  whole  art  powerless  to  construe, 

Until  by  thine  own  centre  thou  art  taught. 

ELLA   DIETZ   CLYMER. 


AUGUST  TWENTIETH. 

DO  not  forget  that  He  who  says,  "  Come,  learn  of 
Me,"  has  a  little  text-book  to  put  into  your  hands. 

—  L.  K.  MCLEAN. 

Not  a  day  should  be  allowed  to  pass  without  your 
learning  something.  Your  mind  should  broaden  and 
expand  like  a  flower  in  the  sunlight ;  unfolding  day  by 
day  and  hour  by  hour.  This  is  why  God  has  given 
you  so  many  avenues  of  improvement,  and  surrounded 
you  by  innumerable  advantages.  He  says,  "  Learn  of 
Me,"  and  has  put  into  your  hands  His  Word,  filled  with 
loving  promises  and  helpful  counsels.  He  has  also 
given  into  your  keeping  a  volume  of  poems,  which  we 
call  the  Book  of  Nature,  and  through  this  we  may  read 
the  beautiful  thoughts  of  the  Divine  Teacher.  Get  as 
near  Him  as  you  can  through  these  two  books :  learn 
all  you  can  here,  and  it  will  help  to  fit  you  for  the  Life 
hereafter. 

Learn  to  live,  and  live  to  learn, 
Ignorance  like  a  fire  doth  burn, 
Little  tasks  make  large  returns. 

BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

Divine  knowledge  is  not  as  the  light  of  the  moon,  to 
sleep  by ;  but  as  the  light  of  the  sun,  to  work  by.  — 

WILLIAM   SECKER. 

Wisdom  sits  alone, 

Topmost  in  Heaven :  —  she  is  its  light  —  its  God  ; 
And  in  the  heart  of  man  she  sits  as  high  — 
Though  grovelling  eyes  forget  her  oftentimes, 
Seeing  but  the  world's  idols. 

N.   P.   WILLIS. 

[239] 


AUGUST  TWENTY-FIRST. 

T7AI  LURES  come  to  all  of  us.  No  matter  how 
-i  hard  we  try  sometimes,  things  will  go  wrong. 
Success  is  oftenest  gained  through  long  striving, 
though  occasionally  it  is  reached  with  less  difficulty. 
After  all,  the  harder  we  have  to  work  for  the  attain- 
ment of  an  object,  the  more  we  appreciate  it  when  it 
is  in  our  possession.  Do  not  be  discouraged  because 
of  failures  :  begin  over.  Throughout  the  entire  world 
people  are  beginning  over:  there  is  not  a  household 
but  has  learned  the  lesson.  There  is  rebuilding  done 
at  all  times  of  the  year  —  a  pulling  down  of  half-fin- 
ished plans,  a  ripping  out  of  false  stitches  and  a  new 
start  being  made.  Take  fresh  courage,  and  try  again, 
no  matter  how  hard  it  may  be.  Break  a  spider's  web, 
and  she  will  set  to  work  immediately  to  repair  the 
damage ;  rob  a  bee-hive,  and  the  little  occupants  will 
go  on  making  cells  and  gathering  fresh  stores  of  honey  : 
brush  down  an  ant-hill,  and  the  busy  little  ants  will  go 
to  cleaning  out  the  rubbish  and  rebuilding  the  demol- 
ished house  at  once.  It  is  always  creditable  to  be  will- 
ing to  begin  over. 


Have  you  missed  in  your  aim  ?  well,  the  mark  is  still 

shining. 
Did  you  faint  in  the  race  ?  well,  take  breath  for  the 

next. 
Did  the  clouds  drive  you  back?  but  see  yonder  their 

lining. 
Were  you  tempted  and  fell  ?  let  it  serve  for  a  text. 

ELLA   WHEELER   WILCOX. 
[240] 


AUGUST   TWENTY-SECOND. 

NOTHING  makes  you  so  gentle,  so  kind,  so  human, 
as  love :  nothing  else  will  so  round  out  and  per- 
fect your  character,  and  fit  you  for  a  good  influence 
over  your  fellow-men.  But,  you  say,  "  I  cannot  love 
everybody,  for  some  people  are  not  lovable  at  all." 
Of  course  we  have  not  the  same  kind  of  love  towards 
all  men.  You  have  a  different  love  for  every  member 
of  your  own  family,  and  yet  each  has,  perhaps,  an  equal 
place  in  your  heart.  Why  should  you  not  also  love 
the  whole  human  family  —  the  universal  family  of  God  ? 
Even  if  you  do  find  some  among  them  whom  you  pro- 
nounce "  unlovely,"  you  can  have  a  feeling  of  kind- 
ness and  sympathy  for  them,  and  an  interest  in  their 
welfare.  In  one  way,  this  is  love.  Because  you  love 
God,  you  should  love  your  fellow-men,  do  good  to 
them,  and  help  them  to  grow  more  lovable.  There  is 
no  surer  way  of  reaching  a  man's  heart,  than  by  show- 
ing him  the  humanity  in  your  own.  Love  is  very 
closely  akin  to  humanity ;  in  fact,  one  cannot  be  gen- 
uinely human  without  love. 

Love's  reign  is  eternal, 

The  heart  is  his  throne, 
And  he  has  all  seasons 

Of  life  for  his  own. 

GEORGE   P.   MORRIS. 

Oh,  he's  accurst  from  all  that's  good, 
Who  never  knew  Love's  healing  power; 
Such  sinner  on  his  sins  must  brood, 
And  wait  alone  his  hour. 
If  stranger  to  earth's  beauty  —  human  love, 
There  is  no  rest  below,  nor  hope  above. 

RICHARD   H.   DANA. 
A  16  [241] 


AUGUST   TWENTY-THIRD. 

BATTLE  as  you  may  alone,  you  cannot  overcome 
Self  without  God's  help.  There  is  no  human  be- 
ing, I  care  not  how  strong  he  is,  who  is  able  to  grow 
to  the  stature  of  perfect  manhood  without  he  has  Divine 
assistance.  Dependent  on  God,  as  we  are,  for  breath, 
for  health,  for  light  and  food,  and  for  all  the  comforts 
and  blessings  of  this  life,  we  are  also  dependent  on 
Him  for  strength  to  resist  temptation,  and  for  help  to 
grow  daily  better  and  more  like  Him.  Let  us  then 
draw  near  to  Him,  and  hold  sweet  communion  with 
Him  apart  from  all  the  outer  world. 


In  the  secret  of  His  presence, 

I  am  kept  from  strife  of  tongues  ; 
His  pavilion  is  around  me, 

And  within  are  ceaseless  songs ! 
Stormy  winds,  His  word  fulfilling, 

Beat  without,  but  cannot  harm, 
For  the  Master's  voice  is  stilling 

Storm  and  tempest  to  a  calm. 


In  the  secret  of  His  presence 

Is  a  sweet  unbroken  rest : 
Pleasures,  joys,  in  glorious  fulness, 

Making  earth  like  Eden  blest ; 
So  my  peace  grows  deep  and  deeper, 

Widening  as  it  nears  the  sea, 
For  my  Saviour  is  my  keeper, 

Keeping  mine,  and  keeping  me. 

HENRY   BURTON. 
[242] 


AUGUST   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

PRAYER  is  the  ladder  upon  which  the  soul  climbs 
to  Heaven.  To  get  into  fellowship  with  God  we 
must  approach  Him  through  prayer,  and  make  known 
our  wants  to  Him.  Prayer  is  the  soul's  incense;  the 
offering  up  to  God  of  our  dearest  wishes  and  sweetest 
hopes,  in  the  spirit  of  pure,  trusting  faith.  What  returns 
our  Father  makes,  we  may  not  even  guess :  sometimes 
He  answers  us  speedily,  sometimes  it  is  best  that  we 
should  wait,  and  ask  again  and  again  before  our  request 
is  granted :  sometimes  our  plea  is  denied  —  and  we 
often  live  to  thank  Him  that  many  of  our  prayers  were 
not  answered.  Rest  assured,  that  when  or  how  the 
answer  comes,  God's  love  is  always  the  same. 

Not  only  should  our  prayers  arise 
To  God,  in  Whom  our  souls  rejoice, 
But  we  should  hearken  for  His  voice, 

And  own  His  answers  to  our  cries. 

SIMEON  TUCKER  CLARK. 

Full  often  lips  that  never  part 

Hold  deeper  prayers  within  the  heart. 

MARTHA   EILEEN  HOLAHAN. 

There  are  God  and  peace  above  thee : 

Wilt  thou  languish  in  despair? 
Tread  thy  griefs  beneath  thy  feet, 

Scale  the  walls  of  Heaven  with  prayer  — 
'Tis  the  key  of  the  apostle, 

That  opens  Heaven  from  below  ; 
'Tis  the  ladder  of  the  patriarch, 

Whereon  angels  come  and  go. 

ANNE   C.   LYNCH. 
[243] 


AUGUST   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

TTARVEST-TIME!  Ah,  how  much  depends  upon 
-1-  J-  this  season  of  the  year.  Wheat-fields  have  been 
ripening  day  by  day  through  the  warm,  drowsy  sum- 
mer-tide ;  the  bearded  barley  has  been  taking  on  a 
golden  color,  and  the  corn  is  rustling  in  the  ear.  It 
seems  to  me,  one  cannot  fully  appreciate  God's  good- 
ness who  has  never  seen  a  harvest-field,  ripe  and  mellow, 
waiting  for  the  reapers.  In  our  great,  busy,  bustling 
cities,  pufEng  with  steam  and  humming  with  machin- 
ery, are  many  of  God's  poor  children  who  have  never 
been  into  the  free,  open,  country  air.  And  yet,  I  think, 
Heaven  will  be  all  the  sweeter  to  those  who  have  missed 
such  beauty  here.  What  have  you  sown  for  your  har- 
vest —  wheat  or  tares  ?  Begin  to  bind  your  sheaves  : 
God  grant  that  you  may  garner  in  much  that  will  be 
immortal  in  coming  years,  and  that  shall  feed  hungry 
minds  and  souls  with  satisfying  food. 


Thought  hath  wondrous  germination 

In  the  soil  of  mind,  and  Time 
Shields  with  joy  each  new  creation  — 

Harvest  miracle  sublime. 

Listen !  hear  the  Lord  of  harvest 

Calling,  calling  for  thy  sheaves! 
Not  alone  thy  soul  thou  starvest ; 

'Tis  thy  friend,  thy  child,  who  grieves    - 

Thy  soul's  kin  who  should  inherit 
Bread  and  wine  thy  lands  have  grown. 

Ah!  how  desolate  the  spirit 
Seeking  but  its  own  alone! 

ISADORE   GILBERT  JEFFERY. 
[244] 


AUGUST   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

SOMETHING  beautiful  is  always  in  store  for  those 
^  who  hopefully  wait.  God's  recompense  is  sure,  O 
faithful  one,  His  hand  will  bestow  a  reward  if  thou  art 
worthy  of  it.  Did  the  brightness  ever  fail  to  come  after 
the  long,  dark  night  had  worn  away?  Did  His  promise 
ever  disappoint  thee,  or  His  strength  fall  short  of  thy 
needs  ?  Perhaps  thy  heart  is  sore  oppressed,  and  thy 
faith  dim  to-day  :  this  should  not  be.  Say  to  the  cloud 
that  darkens  thy  sky,  "  Roll  back,  harbinger  of  doubt 
and  despair,  behind  thee  shines  the  sunlight  still.  God's 
light  will  never  fail :  He  is  faithful  and  mindful  of  His 
own."  To-morrow  will  be  the  dawn  of  a  better,  brighter 
day. 

The  blush  of  dawn  may  yet  restore 
Our  light  and  hope  and  joy  once  more. 
Sad  soul,  take  comfort,  nor  forget 
The  sunrise  never  failed  us  yet. 

CELIA   THAXTER. 

Better  to  hope  though  the  clouds  hang  low, 

And  to  keep  the  eyes  still  lifted ; 
For  the  sweet  blue  sky  will  soon  peep  through 

When  the  ominous  clouds  are  rifted ! 
There  was  never  a  night  without  a  day, 

Or  an  evening  without  a  morning ; 
And  the  darkest  hour,  as  the  proverb  goes, 

Is  the  hour  before  the  dawning. 

MRS.    M.   A.    KIDDER. 

May  hope's  bright  star  illume  thy  way,  — 
To-morrow  bring  the  better  day! 

ANONYMOUS. 
[245] 


AUGUST   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

EMEMBER,  we  cannot  entertain  love,  sympathy, 
-»-\.  and  kindness  in  a  cold  heart.  Would  you  put  an 
honored  guest  into  a  cold,  cheerless  room?  These 
beautiful  virtues  are  guests  which  should  be  royally  re- 
ceived and  welcomed  in  the  warmest,  most  hospitable 
recesses  of  the  heart,  therefore  let  us  ask  our  Heavenly 
Father  to  make  us  ready  to  receive  them.  The  more, 
too,  that  we  have  of  love  for  humanity,  the  more  we 
are  capable  of  loving  God.  Love  expands  the  heart  — 
hatred  contracts  it :  the  same  law  which  applies  to 
heat  and  cold  will  apply  to  love.  The  more  beauty  we 
see  in  our  fellow-men,  the  more  glorious  God  becomes 
to  us  —  love  expands  the  heart. 

Pour  out  thy  soul  like  the  rush  of  a  river 

Wasting  its  waters,  forever  and  ever, 

Through  the  burnt  sands  that  reward  not  the  giver 

Silent  or  songful  thou  nearest  the  sea. 
Scatter  thy  life  as  the  summer  showers  pouring! 
What  if  no  bird  through  the  pearl-rain  is  soaring? 
What  if  no  blossom  look  upward  adoring? 

Look  to  the  Life  that  was  lavished  for  thee! 

ROSE   TERRY   COOKE. 

Dear  fellow  Christian,  has  a  ray  from  above, 
Or  a  wave  from  the  fountain  of  Infinite  love, 
Transfused  with  its  current  your  heart's  hidden  spring? 
Then  its  outflow  to  others  will  some  blessing  bring. 
Streams  from  a  sweet  fountain  will  sweetness  distil ; 
Lives  lovely  and  pure  must  work  out  His  will. 
And  then,  for  each  work,  in  each  field  of  the  Lord, 
How  sweet  is  the  recompense,  rich  the  reward. 

MARY   A.    LEAVITT. 
[246] 


AUGUST  TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

GOD  secretes  in  places  lone  and  still 
The  rarest  products  of  His  will. 

THOMAS   BREWER   PEACOCK. 


Often  the  quietest  lives  are  the  most  beautiful.  Un- 
derneath an  outward  reserve  of  manner,  lies  the  hidden 
treasure  of  the  soul.  Born,  perhaps,  in  the  humble 
walks  of  life,  and  yet  taking  high  rank  with  God  and 
the  angels,  such  as  these  touch,  as  it  were,  the  out- 
skirts of  Heaven  and  have  not  far  to  go  to  complete 
the  journey  thither.  These  silent  lives  will  measure 
their  brief  span,  and  you  and  I  will  never  know,  per- 
haps, of  the  beautiful  hidden  treasures  they  possess. 
O  my  Friend,  what  of  your  soul?  Is  there  pure  gold 
hidden  away,  or  is  it  all  dross  ? 

Not  only  in  cavernous  homes  of  the  sea 

Are  the  quenchless  stores  of  things  divine, 
Nor  does  only  the  willing  stars'  heraldry 

With  the  light  of  their  wonderful  birthright  shine ; 
For  there  are  in  the  heart  such  things  as  come 

Not  over  the  sea,  nor  out  of  the  night, 
And  the  unknown  speech  of  the  Soul  is  a  tongue 

They  may  listen  and  wait  for  in  fear  and  delight. 

ISAAC   R.    BAXLEY. 

The  depth 

Of  glory  in  the  attributes  of  God, 
Will  measure  the  capacities  of  mind ; 
And  as  the  angels  differ,  will  the  ken 
Of  gifted  spirits  glorify  Him  more. 

N.    P.   WILLIS. 
[247] 


AUGUST   TWENTY-NINTH. 

WE  could  be  saved  a  great  deal  of  trouble  if  we 
only  knew ;  but  so  much  is  hidden  from  us  by 
a  kind  Providence,  which,  if  we  but  understood,  would 
prevent  us  from  making  mistakes  and  wounding  sensi- 
tive hearts.  Our  impulsive  nature  often  leads  us  into 
error :  we  do  not  stop  to  think,  but  speak  and  act  like 
children,  heedless  of  what  the  result  may  be.  Oh,  how 
many  times  we  are  left  to  repent  our  rashness!  Be 
watchful :  the  sins  of  omission  are  often  worse  than 
the  sins  of  commission.  Oh,  the  good  you  might  have 
done!  Oh,  the  evil  you  might  have  left  undone! 


Could  we  but  know  of  cruel  wounds 
That  throb  and  beat  in  many  a  heart, 

How  would  we  strive,  by  tenderest  touch, 
Some  balm  of  healing  to  impart. 

Could  we  but  know  of  thorny  paths 

Full  many  weary  pilgrims  tread, 
Would  we  not  count  it  blessed  boon 

Sweet  flowers  on  such  dark  paths  to  shed! 

EMMELINE   SHERMAN   SMITH. 

If  we  knew  what  lives  are  darken'd 

By  some  thoughtless  word  of  ours, 
Which  had  ever  lain  upon  them, 

Like  the  frost  upon  the  flowers, 
Oh!  with  what  sincere  repentings, 

With  what  anguish  of  regret, 
While  our  eyes  are  overflowing, 

Would  we  cry,  "forgive,"  "forget." 

ELLEN   H.    GATES. 
[248] 


AUGUST   THIRTIETH. 

" \/E  shall  know  the  truth,  and  the  truth  shall  make 
JL  you  free."  There  is  no  countenance  so  open 
and  clear  as  that  of  the  truthful  man  or  woman.  The 
eyes  can  look  you  squarely  in  the  face  without  flinching, 
and  the  voice  is  honest  in  its  tone  and  expression :  the 
truthful  man  or  woman  is  at  ease  anywhere,  and  carries 
a  passport  into  any  place.  If  you  would  have  a  clear 
conscience,  be  truthful ;  if  you  would  be  trusted  by 
your  fellow-men,  be  truthful ;  if  you  would  be  at  peace 
with  God,  be  truthful.  There  are  always  two  sides  to 
everything  —  the  true  and  the  false  —  your  judgment 
will  tell  you  which  is  right ;  search  out  the  truth,  and 
it  shall  "  make  you  free."  Ah,  the  liberty  of  the  truth 
is  a  grand  thing. 

If  we  have  whispered  truth, 

Whisper  no  longer ; 
Speak  as  the  tempest  does, 

Sterner  and  stronger. 

JOHN   G.    WHITTIER. 

Men  call  him  crazed  whose  eyes  are  raised 

To  look  beyond  his  times  ; 
And  they  are  learned,  who  too  fast 
Are  anchored  in  the  changeless  past, 

To  seek  Truth's  newer  climes ! 
Yet  act  thy  part,  heroic  heart! 

For  only  by  the  strong 
Are  great  and  noble  deeds  achieved ;  — 
No  truth  was  ever  yet  believed 

That  had  not  struggled  long. 

J.    T.    TROWBRIDGE. 
[249] 


AUGUST  THIRTY-FIRST. 

LET  August  go  out  in  a  song.  If  you  have  no  mu- 
sic in  your  voice,  surely  you  have  it  in  your  heart. 
Silent  praise  is  always  music  to  the  ear  of  God  ;  every 
chord  tuned  to  His  praise  is  a  hallelujah  to  Him.  I 
have  heard  a  poor  trembling  voice  trying  to  catch  the 
melody  of  a  hymn,  that  went  quavering  and  faltering 
through  the  verses  in  a  most  unmusical  manner,  accord- 
ing to  the  correct  style  of  a  true  musician  ;  and  yet  the 
rapture  on  that  face,  and  the  spirit  of  worship  behind 
the  voice,  made  of  it  a  sacred  symphony.  Not  all  the 
trained  choirs  of  Europe  and  America  could  pour 
sweeter  music  into  the  courts  of  Heaven  than  swells 
from  the  soul  of  one  of  God's  aged  saints  whose  feet 
are  almost  on  the  Border-land. 


If  you  cannot  set  to  metre  all  the  music  of  your  soul, 
Then  let  its  heavenly  harmony  your  daily  life  control ; 
Until  from  out  the  discord  of  life's  bitterness  and  pain 
Sweet  symphonies  shall  rise — nor  your  life-song  be  in 
vain. 

ALICE   F.    DUNLAP. 


Go  sing  to  others  all  the  songs 

The  angels  sing  to  you  — 
The  unused  voice  will  lose  its  power, 

Its  tones  will  not  be  true. 
Transposed  for  weak,  unskilful  hands, 

In  all  the  easy  keys, 
The  cheering  strains,  the  soothing  calm 

Of  heavenly  melodies. 

JULIA   H.    THAYER. 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS 
1835-1893 


OR  THE   MONTH 
OF  SEPTEMBER. 


SEPTEMBER   FIRST. 

QEPTEMBER  strews  the  woodlands  o'er 
^     With  many  a  brilliant  color ; 
The  world  is  brighter  than  before,  — 

Why  should  our  hearts  be  duller? 
Sorrow  and  the  scarlet  leaf, 

Sad  thoughts  and  sunny  weather! 
Ah  me!  this  glory  and  this  grief 

Agree  not  well  together. 

THOMAS  WILLIAM   PARSONS. 

Like  an  oriental  princess  comes  the  beautiful  maid 
September.  All  silently  she  buries  her  shapely  feet 
among  the  grasses,  and  trails  her  stately  garments 
down  the  wooded  aisles,  and  the  woodland  echoes 
whisper  to  each  other,  " Behold,  September  is  here!" 
Our  fair,  sweet  Summer  has  flown,  but  lo,  in  her  stead 
September  walks  among  us  clothed  in  all  the  regal 
splendor  of  autumnal  colors. 

Now  the  sweet  September's  here, 

And  the  plover  pipeth  clear, 
And  each  sheltered  sheath  of  satin 

Holds  a  guerdon  of  good  cheer ; 
And  the  corn  all  ripe  and  high, 
Taller  far  than  you  or  I, 
Standeth  spear-like  to  the  sky, 

In  the  sunset  of  the  year. 

KATE  MCPHELIN   CLEARY. 


SEPTEMBER  SECOND. 

A  ND  now  you  walk  among  the  glories  of  a  dying 
**•  Summer  and  a  dawning  Autumn.  Amid  the  heat 
and  dust  steals  a  little  faint  breeze,  dew-laden  in  the 
morning,  and  at  evening  quickening  as  twilight  deepens, 
and  growing  cooler  as  the  night  wears  on.  The  Golden- 
rod  is  waving  his  yellow  plumes  as  if  he  were  monarch 
of  all  creation :  the  wheat  and  corn  are  golden  too.  O 
Heart,  hast  thou  not  thy  gold  to  bring  this  glad  Sep- 
tember day?  I  can  wish  for  thee  nothing  better  than 
that  thy  year's  harvest  is  ripening  to  fruition,  and  that 
the  Master  Reaper  is  turning  the  fruits  of  thy  hands 
and  lips  into  gold  to-day. 

Within  each  beating,  human  heart, 

Lie  buried  out  of  sight 
The  thoughts  that  throb  like  things  apart 

And  wait  to  find  the  light  — 
From  depths  unseen,  the  heart's  own  sod 
Sends  forth  its  flowers,  like  Goldenrod. 

IDA  SCOTT  TAYLOR. 

Asters,  purple  and  blue  and  white, 
Yellow  and  orange  goldenrod, 
Ah,  ye  are  preachers,  prophets  of  God, 

Writing  your  message  in  rainbow  light, 

A  revelation  in  all  men's  sight. 

The  humblest  creature  of  mortal  mould 
May  shine,  a  spirit  of  godlike  worth 
Whose  blooming  at  last  shall  illume  the  earth 
With  achievement's  purple,  or  virtue's  gold, 
When  short-lived  glories  are  dead  and  cold. 

GEORGE   LANSING   TAYLOR. 
[252] 


SEPTEMBER   THIRD. 

WE  all  have  our  heart-angels  —  ministering  spirits 
that  come  stealing  into  the  sanctuary  of  our 
inner  life  so  silently  that  we  cannot  even  hear  the  rus- 
tle of  their  wings.  Though  we  may  be  vexed  and  irri- 
tated, grieved  and  distressed,  the  presence  of  one  of 
our  heart-angels  drives  away  all  disturbances,  and 
fills  us  with  restfulness  and  peace.  Do  you  feel  hurt 
or  resentful  or  angry?  God  forbid  that  you  should 
bear  ill-will  towards  any  one,  least  of  all  towards  one 
who  is  dear  to  you.  Open  the  doors  of  your  heart : 
let  out  the  evil  spirit,  that  the  good  may  come  in  and 
minister  to  you,  and  put  a  smile  into  your  eyes  and 
a  song  into  your  lips.  May  this  gentle  messenger  of 
peace  and  good-will  abide  with  you  and  beautify  your 
life  within,  until  it  shall  breathe  forth  an  incense  which 
shall  sweeten  other  lives  and  help  to  fit  them  for  im- 
mortality ! 


There  often  comes  to  meet  me,  from  the  land  where 

fancies  start, 
A  sweet  and  blessed  presence  —  the  Angel  of  my  heart. 

Then  whatever  is   the  fairest,  in   this  poor  heart  of 

mine  — 
As  bees  extract  the  honey  from  the  roses1  gathered 

wine, 
She  draws  with  gentle  glances,  that  lead  me  like  a 

prayer, 
To  follow  in  her  footsteps  through  the  pathway  of  the 

air. 

"  BIRCH   ARNOLD." 
[253] 


SEPTEMBER   FOURTH. 

T  CARE  not  where  you  may  be,  nor  how  surrounded, 
•*•  you  may  cultivate  the  spirit  of  silence.  If  you  have 
learned  how  to  turn  your  thoughts  inward,  without 
allowing  outward  things  to  disturb  and  annoy  you,  you 
can  find  much  food  for  quiet  meditation.  A  man  is 
never  lonely  who  has  large  resources  within  himself. 
If  possible,  get  away  from  the  busy  world  for  a  time, 
and  walk  out  into  the  sunshine  and  gladness  with  Na- 
ture. The  September  woods  are  beautiful  now,  and  an 
hour's  solitude  amid  the  stirring  leaves  and  whispering 
breezes  would  do  you  good.  Oh,  I  wish  every  tired, 
overworked  man,  woman,  and  child  could  spend  a  rest- 
ful hour  in  the  woodlands  to-day,  —  where  the  heart  of 
Nature  beats  high  among  the  branches,  and  echoes  its 
music  in  the  babbling  streams.  Find  some  time  for 
meditation,  even  in  the  midst  of  busy  scenes,  and  may 
a  quiet  peace  possess  you ! 

If  thou  art  worn  and  hard  beset 

With  sorrows,  that  thou  wouldst  forget, 

If  thou  wouldst  read  a  lesson,  that  will  keep 

Thy  heart  from  fainting,  and  thy  soul  from  sleep, 

Go  to  the  woods  and  hills!  no  tears 

Dim  the  sweet  look  that  Nature  wears. 

HENRY   W.    LONGFELLOW. 

Nature  is  man's  best  teacher.     She  unfolds 

Her  treasures  to  his  search,  unseals  his  eye, 

Illumes  his  mind,  and  purifies  his  heart, 

An  influence  breathes  from  all  the  sights  and  sounds 

Of  her  existence ;  she  is  wisdom's  self. 

ALFRED   B.    STREET. 
[254] 


SEPTEMBER   FIFTH. 

THE  necessary  basis  of  culture  is  not  money,  but 
content ;  content  with  outward  things  just  as  they 
are ;  content  with  what  must  be,  with  what  you  so  plain- 
tively call  a  "subordinate  social  position."  Let  us 
learn  to  have  the  grace  to  stand  still  and  receive  what 
is  given  us,  instead  of  struggling  after  the  fashions  of 
the  day.  It  is  this  selfish  and  unlovely  strife  to  be 
first  —  to  be  popular  among  our  fellow-men  —  which 
leaves  no  time  for  thought,  no  room  for  beauty,  and  no 
breath  for  song,  and  that  unfits  us  for  companions  in 
the  home  and  for  the  life  work  we  are  intended  for.  — 

ANONYMOUS. 


I  think  he  conquers  all  who  wins  content. 

Take  what  you  may 

Of  proffered  good  ;  accept  life  as  it  stands 
And  make  the  most  of  its  swift-fleeting  days. 
The  sweet,  glad  smile  in  a  loved  one's  eyes, 
The  tender  cadence  of  household  tones 
Are  better  than  the  crowns  of  the  great  and  high  : 
For  to  live  on  pride  is  to  feed  on  stones. 

In  counting  off  our  life 

By  harvest  moons,  the  checkered,  toilsome  years 
Show  in  their  record  more  of  peace  than  strife, 
More  joy  than  sorrow,  more  of  smiles  than  tears. 

ELLEN   P.    ALLERTON. 

My  life  at  last  has  rounded  out 

Into  the  fulness  of  content ; 
No  more  I  grasp  beyond  my  reach, 

I  mourn  no  more  the  days  long  spent. 

FLORENCE  A.   JONES. 
[255] 


SEPTEMBER   SIXTH. 

A  NOTHER  day!  We  see  the  dawning  light,  we 
**  breathe  the  dewy  air,  and  looking  from  our  win- 
dows watch  the  glory  of  the  glad  new  day  climb  up 
the  sunrise  hills  of  morn.  This  day  is  ours  —  both 
yours  and  mine  —  fresh  given  from  the  hand  of  God  to 
keep  or  waste  it  as  we  will.  How  sweet  it  is ;  how 
pure  and  new,  as  if  just  fashioned  by  the  Lord!  Let 
us  receive  it  with  His  love,  and  crown  it  with  the  best 
we  have,  in  thought,  and  deed  and  earnest  word. 

How  beautiful  is  morn,  when  glad  and  new 

All  nature  wakes  to  greet  another  day ! 
The  sweet,  mysterious  chrism  of  the  dew 

Has  washed  all  signs  of  weariness  away ; 
The  flow'rs  that  drooped  at  yestere'en,  now  lift 

Once  more  their  sparkling  faces  up.     We  too, 
With  heart  and  brain  refreshed,  receive  the  gift 

Of  a  new  day,  on  whose  fair  page,  as  yet, 

No  character  of  good  or  ill  is  set. 
So,  joyously  and  eagerly,  with  hope  and  courage  high, 
We  seek  to  trace  a  record  grand  before  the  day  goes  by. 

MARY  K.    BUCK. 

A  new  day  stretches  before  me, 

A  day  unlived  and  untried ; 
I  know  not  what  it  will  bring  me, 

What  sorrows  or  joys  may  betide. 

How  shall  I  plan  for  these  hours, 

One  by  one,  as  they  come  through  the  day? 

How  fill  them  with  actions  the  wisest? 
How  think  of  the  best  things  to  say? 

EDITH  J.    STOOD ARD. 
[256] 


SEPTEMBER   SEVENTH. 

JOYS  of  this  life  are  fleeting ;  do  not  cling  to  them 
too  closely.  They  last  but  for  a  season,  and  then 
leave  us,  like  summer  birds,  with  nothing  but  their 
empty  nests  of  remembrance  to  tell  they  have  been. 
If  you  would  make  life  worth  living,  do  not  sit  idly 
grieving  over  your  failures  and  disappointments,  nor 
sigh  for  the  unsatisfying  things  of  earth,  but  rest  your 
heart  and  soul  upon  the  promises  of  God,  and  fix  your 
affections  upon  the  treasures  that  shall  not  pass  away 
nor  perish  with  the  using. 


Pleasure  weaves  a  subtle  thread, 

Cunning  as  the  spider, 
Drawing  us  within  her  snare, 

If  we  but  confide  her ; 
Then  with  peace  and  rest  destroyed, 
We  but  find  an  aching  void. 

But  for  all  who  earnest  seek, 

There's  a  better  treasure  ; 
Full  and  free  it  comes  to  all, 

Without  stint  or  measure. 
Heav'n  to  such  will  sure  impart 
Full  fruition  to  each  heart. 

ACHSA  MILLS  BROWN. 


Daily  struggling,  though  unloved  and  lonely, 
Every  day  a  rich  reward  will  give ; 

Thou  wilt  find,  by  hearty  striving  only, 
And  truly  loving,  thou  canst  truly  live. 

HARRIET   W.    SEWALL. 
A  I7  [257] 


SEPTEMBER   EIGHTH. 

love  is  stronger  than  hate,  kindness  than 
J-  selfishness,  forgiveness  than  vindictiveness,  need 
not  be  questioned.  But  the  love  must  be  genuine,  not 
a  counterfeit ;  the  kindness  must  be  unfeigned ;  the 
forgiveness  must  be  from  the  heart :  and  with  the  re- 
generate only  can  this  be.  To  acquire  more  and  more 
of  this  power  should  be  the  serious  aim  of  good  people  ; 
and  to  help  us  in  the  acquisition  of  it,  we  read  and 
ponder  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  It  tells  men  what 
they  must  aim  at,  what  they  must  try  to  become. — 

O.   B.   FROTHINGHAM. 


Dear  Lord,  could  I  but  have  to  me 

The  Spirit's  fulness  given, 
I'd  haste  to  tell  Thy  love  to  men 

And  point  the  way  to  Heaven. 

Divine  Redeemer,  could  I  speak 

Thy  love  so  full  and  free, 
Unto  each  heart  that  needs  Thy  grace, 

I'd  bring  this  world  to  Thee.     . 

FRANCIS  P.   GRIFFITH. 


For  the  purest  hope  that's  human, 
For  the  good  of  man  and  woman, 
For  the  upright  soulhood  holy, 
For  the  great  heart  strong,  yet  lowly, 
For  the  best  good  of  thy  brother, 
As  I've  loved  you,  love  each  other. 

FANNIE  BOLTON. 


SEPTEMBER   NINTH. 

AS  the  birds  sing,  sing  thou!  Rise  with  joy  on  thy 
lips,  for  the  time  of  corn  and  wine  is  at  hand  and 
the  earth  is  giving  her  best.  Give  thou  a  glad  praise- 
offering  to-day,  and  hearts  that  are  tempted  and  tried 
shall  be  lifted  up  from  doubt  and  darkness,  and  hu- 
manity rejoice  because  of  thee. 

Grow,  sing  and  bloom  undaunted ! 
A  world  so  shadow-haunted 
Needs  all  your  bursting  splendor, 
Soft  lights,  and  murmurs  tender. 
The  human  want  is  pressing, 
O'ershadow  it  with  blessing! 
Your  triumph  sure  believing, 
Till  hearts  shall  hush  their  grieving. 

LUCY   LARCOM. 

'Tis  true,  "  there's  ever  a  song  somewhere," 
Yes,  somewhere  beneath  the  skies  ; 

But  what  does  it  matter  and  who  will  care 
If  none  in  the  heart  arise? 

JULIETTE   ESTELLE   MATHIS. 

Oh,  let  me  die  singing,  though  feeble  my  breath, 
For  singing  will  sweeten  the  anguish  of  death ; 
Though  lonely  the  valley  and  gloomy  the  way, 
Heart-music  can  turn  the  deep  gloom  into  day. 

EDWIN   H.    KEVIN. 

Sing  on !  till  some  glad  day  of  days 

Eternal  glories  on  you  shine, 
And  every  plaint  be  turned  to  praise 

In  song  Immortal  as  Divine! 

ANONYMOUS. 

[259] 


SEPTEMBER   TENTH. 

A  GREAT  man  is  always  willing  to  be  little.  While 
**  he  sits  on  the  cushion  of  advantages  he  goes  to 
sleep.  When  he  is  pushed  and  disappointed,  tor- 
mented, defeated,  he  has  a  chance  to  learn  something. 
He  has  been  put  on  his  wits,  but  he  has  learned  facts. 

—  RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON. 

Grasp  with  a  will  whatever  needs  doing ; 

Still  stand  ready,  when  one  work  is  done, 
Another  to  seize,  then  still  pursuing 

In  duty  your  course,  find  the  victory  won. 

Do  your  best  for  to-day,  trust  God  for  to-morrow ; 

Don't  be  afraid  of  a  jest  or  a  sneer ; 
Be  cheerful  and  hopeful,  and  no  trouble  borrow ; 

Keep  the  heart  true,  and  the  head  cool  and  clear. 

If  you  can  climb  to  the  top  without  falling, 
Do  it.  If  not,  go  as  high  as  you  can. 

Man  is  not  honored  by  business  or  calling ; 
Business  and  calling  are  honored  by  man. 

MRS.  GAGE. 

The  heights  of  great  men  reached  and  kept 

Were  not  attained  by  sudden  flight ; 
But  they,  while  their  companions  slept, 

Were  toiling  upward  in  the  night. 

HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW. 

Having  a  purpose  in  life  is  essential  to  right  living. 
.  .  .  Unless  a  man  is  now  living  to  a  purpose,  he  has 
either  not  yet  begun  to  live,  or  he  has  got  through 
living;  and  in  either  case  he  is  out  of  place  in  the 

world.  —  ANONYMOUS. 

[260] 


SEPTEMBER   ELEVENTH. 

ENDURANCE  is  a  very  essential  thing  in  this 
life :  we  need  a  great  deal  of  it,  from  childhood 
to  old  age.  If  you  are  naturally  sensitive  and  shrink- 
ing, you  should  have  an  extra  supply  ;  if  you  are  easily 
tempted  to  do  wrong,  you  should  pray  for  more  en- 
durance to  enable  you  to  stand  up  bravely  to  your 
principles.  Do  not  allow  yourself  weakly  to  say,  "  I 
would  overcome  it  if  I  could,"  but  quietly  resolve  that 
you  will  do  so,  come  what  may. 

If  is  a  word  born  of  sad  human  doubt ; 

There  is  no  If,  with  the  great  God  above ; 

"  I  Will! "  is  His  mandate  of  pow'r  and  love, 
And  Heaven  and  Earth  obey  with  glad  shout ; 
For  Divine  Will  and  Pow'r  all  chances  rout, 

When  we  are  sheltered  in  Infinite  Love 

Our  wills  attuned  to  the  Great  Will  above. 

LYDIA   HOYT  FARMER. 

Then  again,  we  need  not  only  endurance  and  strength 
to  go  forward  and  do  our  duty,  but  the  patient,  quiet 
endurance  to  sit  still  and  wait :  to  bear  reproaches, 
pain,  trials,  and  grief,  that  we  may  be  sweetened  under 
them,  and  made  better.  The  brave  spirit  can  bear 
all  things  without  murmuring  or  repining. 

Behold,  we  live  through  all  things,  famine,  thirst, 
Bereavement,  pain  :  all  grief  and  misery, 

All  woe  and  sorrow ;  life  inflicts  its  worst 
On  soul  and  body,  —  but  we  cannot  die 

Though  we  be  sick,  and  tired,  and  faint,  and  worn, 

Lo,  all  things  can  be  borne. 

ELIZABETH  AKERS. 
[261] 


SEPTEMBER   TWELFTH. 

IT  is  very  easy  to  be  bright  and  pleasant  when  there 
is  nothing  to  try  our  temper  and  ruffle  us.  It  is 
very  easy  to  do  our  duty  when  we  can  have  things  all 
our  own  way,  but  the  test  is  when  we  have  to  undo  all 
that  we  have  done  to  please  some  one  else ;  when  we 
must  bear  criticism  and  reproof  in  silence ;  when  we 
must  do  our  best  for  those  who  care  nothing  personally 
for  us,  but  who  have  a  right  to  demand  perfect  work 
at  our  hands. 

It  is  not  hard  to  toil  when  friends  are  ready 
To  smile  upon  the  humble  work  you  do ; 

For  sympathy  will  make  a  weak  hand  steady, 
A  wavering  purpose  true. 

But  it  is  hard  to  toil  with  none  to  love  you, 
With  none  whose  help  you  wish  or  care  to  ask  — 

No  faces  bent  with  kindly  looks  above  you, 
To  glorify  your  task. 

Ah,  then,  when  work  has  lost  its  robe  of  beauty, 
And  none  about  you  care  for  what  you  do, 

It  is  most  noble  then  to  do  the  duty 
That  God  has  given  you. 

JESSIE  H.   BROWN. 

In  life  —  not  death, 
Hearts  need  fond  words  to  help  them  on  their  way ; 

Need  tender  thoughts  and  gentle  sympathy, 
Caresses,  pleasant  looks  to  cheer  each  passing  day. 
Then  hoard  them  not  until  they  useless  be ; 

In  life  —  not  death, 
Speak  kindly.     Living  hearts  need  sympathy. 

SOPHIE  L.   SCHENCK. 
[262] 


SEPTEMBER  THIRTEENTH. 

T)ERHAPS  thou  hast  special  need  of  God's  blessing 
»  to-day.  Dear  friend,  "every  heart  knoweth  its 
own  bitterness,"  as  well  as  its  own  sweetness,  and 
whatever  be  thy  condition  to-day,  I  ask  for  thee  God's 
blessing.  May  it  gladden  and  comfort  thee  and  rest 
upon  thee  wherever  thou  art! 


How  can  I  cease  to  pray  for  thee?  Somewhere 
In  God's  great  universe  thou  art  to-day ; 

Can  He  not  reach  thee  with  His  tender  care  ? 
Can  He  not  hear  me  when  for  thee  I  pray? 

Somewhere  thou  livest  and  hast  need  of  Him ; 

Somewhere  thy  soul  sees  higher  heights  to  climb  ; 
And  somewhere  still  there  may  be  valleys  dim, 

That  thou  must  pass  to  reach  the  hills  sublime. 

Then  all  the  more,  because  thou  canst  not  hear, 
Poor,  human  words  of  blessing,  will  I  pray, 

O  true,  brave  heart,  God  bless  thee  wheresoe'er 
In  His  great  universe  thou  art  to-day. 

JULIA  C.   R.   DORR. 

May  the  all-wise  Father  bless  thee  — 
Thee,  beloved,  for  whom  I  pray! 

Bless  thee  in  the  silent  night-time, 
Bless  thee  through  the  busy  day! 

Bless  thee  through  all  joy  —  all  sorrow, 
Bless  thee  always  —  everywhere ! 

When  for  thee  I  crave  His  blessing, 
Surely  He  will  hear  my  prayer! 

ANONYMOUS. 
[263] 


SEPTEMBER   FOURTEENTH. 

A  PEACEFUL  day  to  you!  Come  out  of  all  your 
**•  gusts  and  storms  of  heart  and  mind,  breathe  the 
sweet  September  air  and  be  at  peace  with  yourself  and 
all  the  world.  Is  there  any  cause  for  inward  strife? 
Is  not  God's  love  the  same  as  of  old?  Are  not  His 
promises  restful  and  comforting?  Do  not  His  works 
whisper  a  Song  of  Peace  in  your  heart?  Be  not  dis- 
turbed by  any  doubts  as  to  the  future,  but  tranquil  and 
serene,  rest  within  the  shelter  of  His  loving  arms,  and 
thank  Him  for  the  present  with  its  sunshine  and  its 
shadow. 


Master  divine,  unseal  our  ears,  — 
Master  divine,  anoint  our  eyes,  — 

That  we  may  hear  those  voices  plead, 
And  see  the  work  that  round  us  lies,  — 

And  know,  when  strife  and  turmoil  come, 
And  deadly  shafts  are  fiercest  hurled, 

We  may  not  stand  in  God's  great  peace 
And  look  out  on  a  troubled  world,  — 

But,  bearing  peace  within  our  souls, 
Take  open  ways,  and  brave  the  strife, 

Dare  even  mockery  and  the  scourge, 
And  wear  the  thorny  crown  of  life! 

Nor  may  we  rest  in  God's  great  light, 

On  summits  of  eternal  bloom, 
But  with  the  lamp  of  His  sure  Word 

Walk  through  the  shadow  and  the  gloom. 

GRACE  GREENWOOD. 
[264] 


T 


SEPTEMBER  FIFTEENTH. 

I  HE  discovery  of  thought  is  one  of  the  mysteries 

of  life.  —  J.    G.    HOLLAND. 


The  fragrance  of  a  thought  may  rise 
To  nobler  life  and  subtler  guise 
As  still  as  violets  by  the  brooks  — 
A  thing  too  rare  to  set  in  books, 
Or  cage  in  song. 

RICHARD   EDWIN   DAY. 


Our  nearest  and  dearest  ones  cannot  enter  our  silent 
realm  of  Thought ;  it  is  sacred  to  ourselves  alone.  The 
best  and  worst  of  our  nature  is  gathered  there,  and 
none  but  the  eye  of  God  can  see  the  secret  workings 
that  lie  in  the  human  heart.  True  earnest  words 
breathe  forth  from  the  garden  of  Thought  and  blossom 
into  sweetness  and  fragrance  :  and  from  thence  issue 
many  rank  weeds  that  choke  out  the  beautiful  flowers, 
and  leave  behind  only  sorrow  and  regret.  Our  good 
thoughts  come  to  us  like  sweet  messengers  from  Heaven, 
uplifting  and  purifying  us :  cultivate  only  the  best 
thoughts,  and  they  will  make  your  life  beautiful. 

Thought  after  thought,  ye  thronging  rise, 
Like  spring-doves  from  the  startled  wood, 

Bearing  like  them  your  sacrifice 
Of  music  unto  God! 

JOHN  G.   WHITTIER. 

All  thought  begins  in  feeling.  —  JAMES  R.  LOWELL. 


SEPTEMBER   SIXTEENTH. 


is  a  world  of  sweets  and  sours. 

EDGAR   ALLAN   POE. 


Yes,  and  a  very  good  world  it  is  too!  We  look  on 
the  shadowed  side  of  it,  and  it  appears  very  gloomy 
and  forbidding,  but  when  we  find  its  bright  side,  we 
exclaim,  "  What  a  grand  old  world  this  is ! "  I  think 
most  things  in  this  life  are  what  we  make  them  after  all. 
No  one  ever  declares  life  to  be  a  failure  who  is  not  in 
some  way  a  failure  himself.  There  are  crosses  to  bear 
and  things  to  grieve  us,  but  if  we  will  it  so,  life  will 
look  brighter  to  us  every  year. 

Life  is  a  count  of  losses, 

Every  year ; 
For  the  weak  are  heavier  crosses 

Every  year ; 

Lost  Springs  with  sobs  replying 
Unto  weary  Autumn's  sighing, 
While  those  we  love  are  dying 

Every  year. 

But  the  truer  life  draws  nigher 

Every  year ; 
And  its  Morning-star  climbs  higher 

Every  year ; 

Earth's  hold  on  us  grows  slighter, 
And  the  heavy  burthen  lighter, 
And  the  Dawn  Immortal  brighter, 

Every  year. 

ALBERT   PIKE. 
[266] 


SEPTEMBER   SEVENTEENTH. 

T)AUL,  "  an  ambassador  of  Jesus  Christ,"  left  behind 
•*•  him  a  beautiful  record.  He  was  an  example  well 
worthy  of  imitation,  because  he  took  for  his  pattern 
Christ  Himself.  Oh,  you  who  are  discouraged  and  per- 
plexed, and  yet  say  you  love  God,  hear  what  Paul  says, 
"  For  I  am  persuaded,  that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor 
angels,  nor  principalities,  nor  powers,  nor  things  pres- 
ent, nor  things  to  come,  nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any 
other  creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love 
of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord." 

Give  me  his  earnestness ;  give  me  his  will ; 
Give  me  his  tenderness  ;  give  me  his  skill ; 
Give  me  his  steadfastness  o'erreaching  all, 
Give  me  the  prayerfulness  God  gave  to  Paul ! 

Give  me  his  watchfulness ;  give  me  his  grace ; 
Give  me  the  peacefulness  found  on  his  face  ; 
Give  me  his  strengthfulness  thro'  grief  and  shame ; 
Give  me  his  truthfulness  —  always  the  same! 

Give  me  his  guilelessness,  pity  and  love ; 
Give  me  his  modesty,  pure  as  a  dove ; 
Give  me  his  trustfulness,  simple  and  sweet ; 
Give  me  his  sympathy,  full  and  complete! 

Give  me  his  faithfulness  —  even  to  death ; 
Give  me  his  zealousness  with  ev'ry  breath ; 
'    Give  me  his  character,  whatever  befall, 

Give  me  the  righteousness  God  gave  to  Paul ! 

IDA  SCOTT  TAYLOR. 


[267] 


SEPTEMBER   EIGHTEENTH. 

T^ORGIVENESS  of  injuries  is  a  God-given  grace. 

J-  It  is  the  most  reluctant  act  that  human  nature 
ever  performs  to  forgive  a  great  wrong.  In  the  deepest 
condition  of  moral  degradation  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  forgiveness  of  injuries  thought  about.  —  So  destitute 
is  mankind  of  the  spirit  of  forgiveness  of  injuries,  that 
heathen  religions  taught  the  right  of  revenging  an 
injury,  but  not  of  forgiving  one.  In  view  of  this  we 
say,  the  spirit  of  forgiving  injuries  is  God-given.  The 
Bible  is  the  one  book  which  from  beginning  to  end 
advocates  forgiveness.  —  j.  L.  WITHROW. 


Blest  Master,  how  exceeding  broad, 

How  deep  Thy  pure  command, 
That  lays  upon  earth's  fevered  pulse 

A  calm,  restraining  hand. 

It  turns  the  tide  of  passion  back, 

It  bids  revenge  be  still ; 
For  e'en  the  wrath  of  man  restrained 

Shall  execute  Thy  will. 

Though  mocked  and  pierced  Thou  bidst  us  pray, 

Forgive,  and  bless,  and  love, 
As  children  of  Eternal  Day 

Whose  life  is  hid  above. 

KATE  R.   ODEN. 

For  still  in  mutual  suffrance  lies 

The  secret  of  true  living ; 
Love  scarce  is  love  that  never  knows 

The  sweetness  of  forgiving. 

JOHN   G.    WHITTIER. 
[268] 


SEPTEMBER   NINETEENTH. 

IN  MEMORIAM  —  JAMES  A.  GARFIELD. 

T    IFE'S  race  well  run, 
J— <  Life's  work  well  done, 
Life's  crown  well  won, 
Now  comes  rest. 

E.  H.  PARKER. 

Was  James  A.  Garfield  great?  Ask  those  early 
years,  when  adverse  winds  always  assailed  his  bark ; 
ask  the  battle-fields  where  he  led  soldiers ;  ask  the 
magnificent  capitol  where  he  was  crowned  as  Repub- 
licans crown  their  chieftains  ;  ask  the  cottage  where  he 
died.  If  out  of  the  answers  to  these  questions  there 
comes  not  the  witness  of  greatness,  the  human  heart 
must  henceforth  toil  and  long  in  vain.  —  DAVID  SWING. 

We  called  him  Statesman,  in  the  Senate  halls, 

And  Orator  when  setting  hearts  athrill, 
We  named  him  Hero  on  the  battle-field, 
And  Chieftain  by  a  sovereign  people's  will. 

But  now  we  learn,  through  days  of  sore  distress, 
That  pain  has  made  him  grander  than  success. 

MARY   T.    LATHROP. 

Wrapt  in  eternal  peace, 
He  rests  apart,  his  life  fulfilled  in  love, 
And  guided  by  a  Wisdom  from  above, 

Nor  does  his  influence  cease,  — 
Mankind  is  nobler  made.     Ah!  not  for  fame 
He  lived,  though  ages  shall  record  his  name! 

Rest,  Hero,  rest  in  peace. 

FANNIE   HUNTINGTON   RUNNELS. 

[269] 


SEPTEMBER  TWENTIETH. 

DO  not  make  yourself  miserable  because  you  can- 
not have  everything  you  want.  God  may  pros- 
per you  yet,  but  even  if  He  does  not  see  best  to  do 
so  here,  think  of  the  riches  He  has  in  store  for  you 
"  up  yonder "  !  These  are  your  inheritance  —  the 
crown,  the  harp,  the  rest,  the  peace,  and  oh,  best  of 
all,  the  presence  of  Christ,  and  the  company  of  His 
redeemed,  surrounded  by  such  glories  as  the  mind  of 
man  cannot  picture.  Besides  these  Christ  left  us  a 
beautiful  earthly  inheritance  to  enjoy  in  this  life. 


What  did  Christ  leave  to  His  Beloved? 
His  Word,  the  surest,  plainest  guide  ; 
His  certain  Promise  to  provide 
For  every  want  that  can  betide  — 

The  sweetness  of  His  love  untold, 
That  nothing  good  can  e'er  withhold, 
And  in  His  heart  our  griefs  doth  fold  — 

His  Peace,  an  angel  unconfessed, 
That  broodeth  o'er  the  troubled  breast 
Till  all  is  tranquil,  calm,  and  rest  — 

The  Comforter,  who  stills  our  sighs, 
And  wipes  the  tears  from  weeping  eyes, 
And  whispers  hopes  of  Paradise  — 

O  sweetest  Christ!     Hear  Thou  my  prayer, 
Of  Legacy  so  grand  and  fair 
Make  me  inheritor  and  heir. 

LILLIE   E.    BARR. 
[270] 


SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-FIRST. 

WOVEN  gold  is  life's  Now  I    Work   is  worship 
to-day!  —  MARY  A.  LEAVITT. 


Your  to-day  is  precious  ;  learn  how  to  value  it.  The 
man  who  squanders  the  present,  has  allowed  a  pearl 
to  slip  through  his  fingers,  which,  though  he  search 
for  forever,  he  shall  never  find  again. 

There  is  no  Morrow.     Though  before  our  face 
The  shadow  named  so  stretches,  we  alway 
Fail  to  overtake  it,  hasten  as  we  may ; 
God  only  gives  one  island-niche  of  space 
Betwixt  the  Eternities,  as  standing  place 
Where  each  may  work  —  the  inexorable  To-day. 

MARGARET  J.  PRESTON. 

Oh,  life  is  sad  and  strange, 

And  love  is  deaf  and  blind, 
And  the  shapes  of  sorrow  and  change 

Are  always  pressing  behind! 
If  the  tender  impulse  stay, 

It  is  nipped  by  the  frost  of  fate  — 
So  make  haste  to  be  kind  to-day, 

For  to-morrow  may  be  too  late ! 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

We  cannot  put  a  girdle  about  eternity,  but  you  may 
take  in  so  much  thereof,  that  this  little  life  which  is 
"rounded  with  a  sleep,"  shall  seem  very  petty,  yea, 
utterly  contemptible ;  except  as  the  deeds  done  therein, 
settle  your  destiny  forever.  Oh,  redeem  the  time, 
redeem  the  time !  —  E.  A.  TANNER. 


SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-SECOND. 

JUST  this  one  day's  burden  is  to  be  borne,  there- 
fore let  not  your  heart  grieve  itself  over  to-morrow's. 
Do  you  not  know  that  there  has  been  food  and  shelter 
and  raiment  in  days  gone  by,  that  He  will  not  forget 
the  days  to  come  ?  Can  you  not  take  the  blessed  gift 
—  God's  token  of  remembrance  for  you  —  To-day,  and 
use  it  without  worrying  over  to-morrow? 

Because  in  a  day  of  my  days  to  come 

There  waiteth  a  grief  to  be, 
Shall  my  heart  grow  faint,  and  my  lips  be  dumb 

In  this  day  that  is  bright  for  me? 

Because  of  a  subtle  sense  of  pain, 

Like  a  pulse-beat  threaded  through 
The  bliss  of  my  thought,  shall  I  dare  refrain 

From  delight  in  the  pure  and  true  ? 


Nay,  phantom  ill  with  the  warning  hand, 

Nay,  ghosts  of  the  weary  past, 
Serene,  as  in  armor  of  faith  I  stand, 

You  may  not  hold  me  fast. 

Your  shadows  across  my  sun  may  fall, 

But  as  bright  the  sun  may  shine, 
For  I  walk  in  the  light  ye  cannot  pall, 

The  light  of  the  King  Divine. 

And  whatever  the  shades  from  day  to  day, 

I  am  sure  that  His  name  is  Love, 
And  He  never  will  let  me  lose  my  way 

To  my  rest  in  His  home  above. 

MARGARET   E.  SANGSTER. 
[272] 


SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-THIRD. 

WE  mount  to  Heaven  mostly  on  the  ruins  of  our 
cherished   schemes,  finding  our   failures  were 
successes. — A.  B.  ALCOTT. 

We  fail  so  often  when  we  have  honestly  tried  to  do  our 
best ;  this  is  because  we  are  so  frail  and  human,  and 
rely  on  our  own  strength  too  much.  It  is  often  when 
we  are  heart-sick  and  discouraged  that  God  whispers 
the  comfort  and  cheer  we  need,  and  saves  us  from 
turning  against  the  world,  and  all  mankind.  He 
knows  just  how  much  we  can  bear,  and  what  discipline 
is  best  for  us,  and  upon  the  very  wrecks  of  our  sweetest 
hopes  He  bids  us,  "  Be  of  good  cheer,"  and  take  heart 
to  begin  again. 

He  knows  how  weak  we  are,  how  broad,  how  high, 
The  powers  He  lends  which  all  our  natures  hem. 

He  knows  what  stress  and  strain  may  wrench  and  try, 
And  we  the  stronger  tides  of  being  stem. 

And  what  He  asks  is,  that  when  sorely  pressed, 
We  reach  our  hands,  and  trustfully  place  them  where 

His  own  may  grasp  them.     Here  alone  is  rest, 
And  comfort  and  emergence  from  despair. 

ANNIE  TURNER. 

God  never  leaves  thee  in  relentless  dark. 

Slowly  the  dawn  on  unbelieving  eyes 
Breaketh  at  last.     Day  brightens,  —  and,  oh,  hark! 

A  flood  of  birdsong  from  the  tender  skies! 
From  storm  and  darkness  thou  hast  found  an  ark, 

Shut  in  with  this  great  marvel  of  surprise! 

JULIA  C.  R.  DORR. 
A  18  [273] 


SEPTEMBER  TWENTY-FOURTH. 

GET  into  the  habit  of  looking  for  the  silver  lining 
of  the  cloud,  and,  when  you  have  found  it,  continue 
to  look  at  it,  rather  than  at  the  leaden  gray  in  the 
middle.     It  will  help  you  over  many  hard  places.  — 

WILLITTS. 

Although  the  day  is  dark  and  drear, 
And  rain  and  wind  are  sighing  loud, 

Above  it  all  is  bright  and  clear  — 
There's  silver  lining  in  the  cloud. 

Let  no  vain  sorrow  or  regret 

Life's  inner  harmonies  enshroud  ; 

They  see  not  —  those  who  pine  and  fret  — 
There's  silver  lining  in  the  cloud. 

ANONYMOUS 

Bear  thy  cross  cheerfully, 

Whate'er  it  be, 
Dream  not  so  fearfully, 

Waiting  to  see 
How  the  dark  waves  of  life 

Their  mission  bring, 
Conquest  comes  but  through  strife, 

Conquer  and  sing. 

BELLE   G.    MCAULEY. 

The  light  heart  is  the  happy  heart.  Cheerfulness 
wins  friends  wherever  it  goes.  A  smile  will  move  the 
sternest  nature.  Do  not  give  up  on  account  of  adver- 
sities and  misfortunes ;  soar  with  Hope  above  them. 
Be  just  as  persistent  in  being  cheerful  as  you  are  in 
having  your  own  way.  —  L.  M.  CHILD. 
[274] 


SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

LITTLE  cares,  little  vexations,  little  duties  make 
up  a  life.  You  cannot  escape  them  in  this  world. 
But  though  they  weigh  you  down  for  a  time,  through 
them  are  wrought  patience,  gentleness,  and  unselfish- 
ness. No  one  is  naturally  patient,  gentle,  or  unselfish, 
under  all  circumstances :  some  inherit  these  qualities 
in  a  measure,  but  under  the  storm  of  peculiar  trials  the 
sunshine  and  sweetness  flies  away.  It  is  only  through 
daily  discipline,  through  continued  vigilance  and  prayer 
that  one  can  learn  to  face  life  with  calmness  and  sub- 
mission. "  Despise  not  the  day  of  small  things,"  they 
make  you  greater  by  and  by. 


As  tiny  streamlets,  adding  to  the  river, 

Mingle  their  waters  wending  to  the  sea, 
So  the  small  things  of  time  fill  up  the  measure 

That  swells  the  chorus  of  eternity ; 
And  oft  we  find  the  path  of  common  duty 

The  royal  road  that  leads  to  God  and  Heaven, 
And,  as  we  cherish  and  improve  the  little, 

We  find  the  greater  things  to  us  are  given. 

How  oft  we've  stopped  to  lift  the  simple  burden, 

And  sighed  in  sorrow  at  the  common  toil, 
But  found  that  as  our  feet  trod  duty*s  pathway, 

The  flowers  of  peace  and  joy  bedecked  the  soil ; 
For  duty  is  a  bright  and  glorious  sunbeam, 

That  gilds  the  humblest  lot  with  light  divine, 
For  Jesus  walked  amid  its  narrow  windings, 

And  made  the  lowliest  aspects  most  sublime. 

MRS.   S.   C.    CLARKE. 
[375] 


SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

IT  is  only  by  renewed  effort,  that  we  can  conquer 
Self.  You  think  perhaps  you  have  completely  mas- 
tered some  evil  tendency,  when,  lo,  another,  even 
greater,  manifests  itself.  In  the  sweetness  of  doing 
for  others  selfhood  is  forgotten.  This  was  the  secret 
of  Christ's  beautiful  life  :  it  was  a  continual  sacrifice,  as 
His  death  was  a  sacrifice. 


At  noon  within  the  market-place  He  stood, 
The  people  gathered  round  Him  at  His  word, 

And  there  He  spake  to  them  of  what  was  good, 
Waking  the  better  thought  of  all  that  heard. 

Of  Love  and  Faith  and  Hope  —  the  great  Triune 
That  uplifts  Life  —  He  spake  as  one  inspired, 

And  as  He  taught  all  hearts  seemed  in  attune, 
All  hearts  with  nobler,  higher  aims  were  fired. 

Night  came ;  the  people  went  unto  their  rest, 
Stirred  by  desires  more  precious  than  new  gold ; 

But  all  alone,  with  head  bent  on  His  breast, 
The  Teacher  sat,  hungry  and  tired  and  cold. 

But  one,  whom  Doubt  still  held,  returned  to  ask 
A  question  that  the  Teacher  might  explain ; 

He  found  the  good  man,  and  forgot  his  task 
In  seeking  to  relieve  the  mortal  pain. 

Warmed,  fed,  and  sheltered,  then  the  Doubter  said 
"  Dost  Thou  teach  truly,  and  yet  find  Thy  lot 

Is  misery?"     The  Teacher  raised  His  head, 
"In  doing  good,  Self  ever  is  forgot." 

FLAVEL   SCOTT   MINES. 
[276] 


B 


SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

UT  woe  to  the  man  who  quails  before  that  which 
makes  him  man.  —  JULIAN  HAWTHORNE. 


To  be  strong,  noble,  and  true  is  what  God  expects 
man  to  be.  But  this  is  not  enough.  He  must  use  his 
strength,  his  nobility,  and  his  truth ;  he  must  be  pro- 
gressive, not  for  himself  alone,  but  for  the  good  of 
others.  He  must  not  shrink  from  going  forward  and 
doing  his  duty,  let  that  duty  be  ever  so  hard.  So  long 
as  you  sit  dreading  and  brooding  over  a  thing  it  will 
never  be  done :  God's  command  centuries  ago  was  "  Go 
forward ! "  and  it  is  the  same  to-day.  The  longer  you 
stand  back,  the  harder  it  is.  Have  a  purpose  :  let  your 
manhood  or  womanhood  assert  itself.  Press  on. 


Press  on!     Surmount  the  rocky  steeps, 

Climb  boldly  o'er  the  torrent's  arch ; 
He  fails  alone  who  feebly  creeps  ; 

He  wins  who  dares  the  hero's  march. 
Be  thou  a  hero!  let  thy  might 

Tramp  on  eternal  snows  its  way, 
And  through  the  ebon  walls  of  night, 

Hew  down  a  passage  unto  day. 

PARK  BENJAMIN. 


Nothing  great  is  lightly  won, 

Nothing  won  is  lost ; 
Every  good  deed  nobly  done 

Will  repay  the  cost. 

SARAH   T.    BOLTON. 
[277] 


SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

T^VERY  heart  looks  forward  to  a  "Sometime."  It 
••— *  floats  beyond  us  like  a  golden  cloud  afar  off,  whose 
radiance  we  may  see,  but  whose  borders  we  cannot 
touch.  What  great  things  are  to  come  to  pass  in  that 
wonderful  Sometime!  The  world  is  to  take  a  grand 
stride  forward :  the  nation,  the  state,  and  humanity  in 
general,  are  to  be  uplifted  and  ennobled,  and  all  in  that 
beautiful,  beautiful  Sometime. 


Sometime  in  the  future,  I  cannot  tell  when, 
We'll  win  in  the  battle  for  God  and  the  right : 

True  wisdom  and  virtue  will  reign  among  men, 
And  earth  will  be  radiant  with  love  and  with  light. 

The  vices  that  torment  and  burden  the  heart, 
Will  flee  as  the  new  world  of  beauty  appears, 

And  sorrow  and  anguish  will  swiftly  depart, 
And  life  be  no  longer  embittered  in  tears. 

EDWIN  H.   NEVIN,  D.D. 

Sometime,  not  far  away, 

Life's  battles  will  be  won, 
And  then  will  dawn  a  day, 

Where  never-setting  sun 
Will  gild  the  golden  shore 

Where  night  shall  be  no  more. 

From  toil,  and  care,  and  sin, 
Sometime  we  hope  to  rest, 

And  have  a  home  within 
The  mansions  of  the  blest. 

AMOS   BRYANT   RUSSELL. 
[278] 


D 


SEPTEMBER  TWENTY-NINTH. 

AY  is  a  snow-white  Dove  of  Heaven 
That  from  the  east  glad  message  brings. 

THOMAS   BAILEY  ALDRICH. 


God  has  sent  you  another  day.  On  the  wings  of 
this  new  white  Day,  God  sends  you  a  sweet  message 
of  peace  and  love. 

The  Sun  is  up  betimes, 

And  the  dappled  East  is  blushing, 
And  the  merry  matin  chimes, 

They  are  gushing,  Christian,  gushing! 
They  are  tolling  in  the  tower 

For  another  day  begun, 
And  to  hail  the  rising  hour 

Of  a  brighter,  brighter  Sun ! 
Rise,  Christian,  rise! 

For  a  sunshine  brighter  far 
Is  breaking  o'er  thine  eyes, 

Than  the  bonnie  morning  star! 

The  lark  is  in  the  sky, 

And  his  morning  note  is  pouring ; 
He  hath  a  wing  to  fly, 

So  he's  soaring,  Christian,  soaring! 
His  nest  is  on  the  ground, 

But  only  in  the  night ; 
For  he  loves  the  matin  sound 

And  the  highest  heaven's  height. 
Hark,  Christian,  hark! 

At  heaven-door  he  sings! 
And  be  thou  like  the  lark, 

With  thy  soaring  spirit-wings! 

ARTHUR   CLEVELAND  COXE. 
[2793 


SEPTEMBER   THIRTIETH. 

T  ET  this  be  a  day  of  kind  words  and  helpful  deeds. 
-L*  Resolve  that  this  last  day  of  September  shall 
live  on  through  years  to  come,  and  that  its  fragrance 
shall  be  like  the  lingering  sweetness  of  the  last  rose  of 
summer,  perfuming  all  the  air  around  it. 

If  you  have  a  kind  word  —  say  it, 
Throbbing  hearts  soon  sink  to  rest; 

If  you  owe  a  kindness  —  pay  it, 
Life's  sun  hurries  to  the  west. 

Can  you  do  a  kind  deed  —  do  it, 
From  despair  some  soul  to  save ; 

Bless  each  day  as  you  pass  through  it, 
Marching  onward  to  the  grave. 

Days  for  deeds  are  few,  my  brother, 

Then  to-day  fulfil  your  vow ; 
If  you  mean  to  help  another, 

Do  not  dream  it  —  do  it  now. 

ANONYMOUS. 

0  spirit,  be  no  more  content 
To  dream,  aspire,  and  long ! 

Grasp  thou  the  grand,  the  beautiful, 
The  proud,  the  free,  the  strong! 

1  rouse!  no  more  for  far-off  good, 
With  folded  hands,  I  pine : 

I  seek,  I  yet  will  find,  the  springs 

To  quench  this  thirst  divine! 
And  these,  all  these  I  covet  now, 

God  helping,  shall  be  mine! 

GRACE   GREENWOOD. 
[280] 


CELIA    THAXTER 
1835-1894 


OR  THE  MONTH 
OF   OCTOBER- 


OCTOBER   FIRST. 

OCTOBER,  the  month  of  joy  and  fruitfulness  :  her 
stone,  the  opal. 


Our  common  mother  rests  and  sings, 
Like  Ruth,  among  her  garnered  sheaves  ; 

Her  lap  is  full  of  goodly  things, 
Her  brow  is  bright  with  autumn  leaves. 

JOHN  G.   WHITTIER. 

Grand  October,  rich  fulfilment 

Of  the  daughters  of  the  year  — 
How  the  woodland  arches  open 

When  they  feel  her  presence  near! 
How  the  rushes  by  the  river 

Gleam  amid  the  dying  trees, 
With  their  plumes  of  gold  and  russet 

Bent  beneath  the  chilling  breeze  ! 

Autumn  leaves  she  makes  her  chaplet, 

As  she  sweeps  the  glowing  skies, 
And  the  gown  that  clings  about  her 

Seems  a  thing  from  Paradise,  — 
And  we  look  in  mute  amazement 

At  her  opaline  delight, 
While  we  cry,  "  O  grand  October, 

God  hath  made  you  wondrous  bright!" 

IDA   SCOTT  TAYLOR. 
[281] 


OCTOBER   SECOND. 

WE  are  nothing,  only  as  we  are  lighted  from 
within.  There  can  be  no  outer  radiance  that 
is  really  beautiful,  without  it  reflects  the  sunshine  of 
the  soul.  If  our  spirits  have  caught  the  reflection  of 
God's  love,  they  will  shine  as  does  the  opal,  with  bright 
rays  from  the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  But  if  we  turn 
them  always  towards  the  world,  they  will  be  dull  and 
colorless. 


I  had  a  gem  —  of  priceless  worth  to  me  — 
I  wore  it  on  my  sleeve ;  the  sky  was  lead. 

"  What  charm  in  that  base  Opal  can  you  see  ?  " 
A  comrade  said,  "  so  cold  and  gray  and  dead! " 

Another  day  I  wore  that  jewel  strange 

Upon  my  sleeve ;  the  sky  was  bright  and  clear. 

"  Ah,"  cried  my  friend,  "  you've  made  a  fitting  change ; 
This  Opal  wears  the  light  of  God's  own  sphere." 


And  here  I  wear  the  Opal  of  my  soul 

Upon  my  sleeve,  with  all  its  dark  and  bright. 

Nor  one  hue  is  the  Opal,  but  the  whole ; 
And  that  whole  nothing  save  as  God  gives  light. 

HENRY  PETERSON. 

There  is  an  old  saying  regarding  the  opal,  which 
runs  thus :  — 

"  October's  child  is  born  of  woe, 
And  life's  vicissitudes  must  know ; 
But  place  an  opal  on  her  breast 
And  Hope  will  lull  her  cares  to  rest." 
[282] 


OCTOBER   THIRD. 

HOW  few  there  are  who  fully  understand  the  art 
of  giving  gracefully  that  which   their  love  or 
benevolence  leads  them  to  bestow. 

"  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive,"  saith 
the  Word  of  God,  and  the  truth  of  this  statement  has 
been  confirmed  by  those  whose  privilege  it  has  been 
to  act  in  the  capacity  of  a  giver.  The  kindly  hand- 
clasp and  expressive  smile,  which  accompany  the  gift, 
are  part  of  the  charm  which  renders  the  giving  a  grace 
which  few  possess.  The  Giver  of  all  good  and  perfect 
gifts,  who  giveth  to  all  men  richly,  freely,  and  liberally, 
sets  us  a  blessed  example  of  the  manner  in  which  our 
good  gifts  should  be  bestowed.  —  IDA  H.  WILSON. 


Lord,  teach  us  the  lesson  of  loving, 

The  very  first  lesson  of  all : 
Oh,  Thou  who  dost  love  little  children, 

How  tender  and  sweet  is  Thy  call ! 
Now  help  us  to  hear  it  and  give  Thee 

The  love  Thou  art  asking  to-day ; 
Then  help  us  to  love  one  another, 

For  this  we  most  earnestly  pray. 

Lord,  teach  us  this  lesson  of  giving, 

For  this  is  the  very  next  thing ; 
Our  love  ought  always  be  showing 

What  offerings  and  fruit  it  can  bring. 
There  are  many  who  know  not  Thy  mercy, 

There  are  millions  in  darkness  and  woe ; 
Our  prayers  and  our  gifts  are  all  needed, 

And  all  can  do  something,  we  know. 

ANONYMOUS. 
[283] 


OCTOBER   FOURTH. 

essence   of  friendship   is   entireness,  a  total 
J-    magnanimity  and  trust. — RALPH  WALDO  EMER- 
SON. 

God  bless  the  true-hearted  friend,  the  one  on  whom 
we  can  lean,  and  in  whom  we  can  trust  at  all  times! 
There  is  nothing  that  our  hearts  hold  dearer  than 
such  a  friendship.  There  is  no  friend  like  the  old 
friend,  the  one  who  has  stood  the  test  of  years,  and 
is  always  staunch  and  true.  To  such  as  these  our 
hearts  cling  with  yearning  tenderness  and  devoted 
love. 

There  is  no  friend  like  the  old  friend  who  has  shared 

our  morning  days, 
No  greeting  like   his   welcome,  no   homage  like  his 

praise ; 
Fame  is  the  scentless  sunflower,  with  gaudy  crown  of 

gold; 
But  friendship  is  the  breathing  rose,  with  sweets  in 

every  fold. 

ANONYMOUS. 

For,  O  friend,  the  oldest  and  dearest, 
I  have  learned  —  have  not  you  —  in  these  years? 

That  the  friends  of  our  youth  are  the  nearest, 
Through  all  changes  of  laughter  and  tears. 

HATTIE  TYNG  GRISWOLD 

Cherish  friendship  in  your  breast, 
New  is  good,  but  old  is  best ; 
Make  new  friends,  but  keep  the  old, 
Those  are  silver,  these  are  gold. 

w.  B.  R. 
[284] 


OCTOBER   FIFTH. 


BURIED  talent  brings  no  income.     Withheld  ser- 
vice hinders  God's  blessing.  —  s.  E.  WISHARD. 


Are  you  burying  your  talent?  Is  there  not  some 
gift  which  you  are  keeping  hidden  away  which  has 
never  yet  been  brought  to  light?  O  my  Friend,  this 
ought  not  to  be.  Just  think  of  the  pleasure  you  might 
give,  —  of  the  good  you  might  do,  if  you  were  not 
withholding  this  precious  treasure  from  the  world! 
Has  God  blessed  you  with  the  power  of  Song,  and 
yet  you  refuse  to  sing  for  His  glory?  Has  He  given 
you  the  sweet,  tender,  winning  way  of  soothing  an 
aching  heart,  or  of  expressing  your  sympathy  for  the 
suffering?  There  is  no  gift  more  valuable  than  that 
of  a  gracious  manner ;  it  will  win  confidence  any  time, 
and  yet  many  abuse  it,  or  set  no  value  on  it  at  all. 
Arouse  to  the  knowledge  that  you  have  a  talent,  and 
make  it  your  business  to  find  out  what  it  is,  that  some 
one  may  get  the  good  of  it. 

Have  we  but  one  talent?    Its  use  He  commands ; 
"Two  mites"  fill  the  measure  of  His  equal  demands. 
And  one  talent,  improved,  shall  double  its  own, 
While  ten,  which  lie  buried,  are  counted  as  none. 

MARY  A.   LEAVITT. 

If  the  power  to  do  hard  work  is  not  talent,  it  is  the 
best  possible  substitute  for  it.  Things  don't  turn  up 
in  this  world  until  somebody  turns  them  up.  A  pound 
of  pluck  is  worth  a  ton  of  luck.  Luck  is  an  ignis 
fatuus.  You  may  follow  it  to  ruin,  but  never  to  suc- 
cess.—  JAMES  A.  GARFIELD. 


OCTOBER   SIXTH. 

GOD  loves  you  and  cares  for  you  always:  is  this 
not  a  sweet  comforting  thought?  Can  you  not 
read  His  beautiful  message  in  earth  and  sky  to-day? 
Can  you  not  interpret  His  meaning  in  all  this  autumn 
glory?  The  leaves  are  flushed  with  color,  the  dahlias 
are  richest  cardinal,  the  fruit  is  glowing  like  a  sunset 
sky :  everything  is  nearing  perfection.  "  But  the  year 
is  dying!"  you  say.  Ah  no,  the  year  never  dies,  it 
is  only  the  falling  away  of  a  few  decayed  leaves,  the 
withering  of  a  few  flowers.  The  year  is  only  getting 
ready  for  its  winter  sleep.  Dear  Heart,  He  who  sends 
the  frosts  to  mellow  the  fruit  and  add  fresh  color  to 
the  dying  leaves,  will  never  forget  you.  When  you  are 
weary  and  faint,  and  your  burdens  are  heavy,  remember 
this.  Life's  frosts  will  come  to  us  all,  but  what  will  it 
matter?  They  will  only  rob  us  of  a  few  roses;  there 
will  be  the  falling  away  of  some  dead  leaves  of  ambi- 
tion and  hope,  perhaps,  but  this  will  give  us  a  better 
chance  to  get  ready  for  our  Long  Sleep.  Go  on  your 
way  bravely  and  patiently  ;  remember,  that  above  God's 
clouds  of  discipline,  shines  the  rainbow  of  His  love. 
This  life  will  soon  be  over,  and  then  what  a  rest  shall 
be  yours! 


A  day  of  toil  —  what  matters  it  ? 

So  short  this  life  of  tears  and  pain. 
Lift  up  thy  face!    What  dost  thou  fear? 

Thou  hast  not  given  thine  all  in  vain. 
Soon  thou  shalt  walk  with  Him  in  white. 

Who  knoweth  ?     It  may  be  to-night. 

ADELAIDE  ALLISON. 
[286] 


OCTOBER   SEVENTH. 

HEART-CULTURE  is  a  very  essential  thing.  As 
the  heart  is  the  centre  of  life,  so  it  is  also  the 
centre  of  good  and  evil.  The  heart  should  be  daily 
nourished,  and  tenderly  guarded,  for  from  it  will  issue 
the  things  that  make  for  our  eternal  peace  or  everlast- 
ing despair.  Remember,  the  body  is  short-lived,  but 
the  influence  which  flows  from  the  heart  is  deathless. 


The  flush  of  youth  soon  passes  from  the  face, 
The  spells  of  fancy,  from  the  mind  depart ; 

The  form  may  lose  its  symmetry,  its  grace, 
But  time  can  claim  no  victory  o'er  the  heart. 

ANNA   P.    DINNIES. 

Guard  well  thy  heart,  lest  passions  sweep 
The  chords,  and  God's  sweet  melody 

Be  lost,  lest  from  the  ruins  leap 
The  spirit  of  unrest  set  free, 

And  o'er  thy  life  dark  chaos  fall. 

Guard  well  thy  heart !     Rest  not  content 
With  visions  fair.     Unwearied  seek 

Till  thou  hast  found  the  true  love  sent 
By  Him  who  watcheth  o'er  the  weak. 

Who  heeds  the  suppliant's  call. 

Guard  well  thy  heart!     Its  throbbing  life 
Protect  with  jealous  care.     Be  not 

Afraid,  though  bitter  grow  the  strife, 
And  fierce  contention  mark  thy  lot. 

Courage!     God  ruleth  over  all! 

THEODORE  F.    MCMANUS. 
[287] 


OCTOBER  EIGHTH. 

LOVE  and  sympathy  are  very  closely  akin.  If  you 
are  truly  sorry  for  any  one  in  distress  or  adver- 
sity, so  sorry  that  the  chords  of  sympathy  are  touched 
and  vibrate  as  if  the  suffering  were  your  own,  then  you 
must  love  them.  There  are  many  mistaken  ideas  re- 
garding sympathy.  Some  people,  when  brought  face 
to  face  with  poverty  and  misery,  will  say,  "  I  feel  very 
sorry  indeed  for  you,"  and  pass  on  without  a  single 
effort  to  relieve  the  distress.  They  imagine  themselves 
very  sympathetic,  and  yet  they  fail  to  prove  it.  God 
asks  proofs  of  us.  The  Good  Samaritan  not  only  felt 
sympathy  for  his  suffering  brother,  but  showed  it  by 
ministering  to  him.  What  was  behind  the  sympathy  ? 
ah,  there  lies  the  secret  —  it  was  love!  Those  who 
passed  him  by,  looked  on  him,  perhaps,  with  cold  pity, 
but  the  Good  Samaritan  had  compassion  on  him ;  it 
was  something  deeper  than  pity  —  it  was  sorrow  and 
sympathy  blended ;  it  was  brotherhood;  it  was  love! 
Remember  that  cold  pity  is  not  enough ;  it  never 
heals  broken  hearts,  nor  binds  up  wounds,  nor  clothes 
the  hungry,  nor  feeds  the  poor.  Sympathy  and  love 
demand  service :  they  work,  while  careless  pity  looks 
on  and  passes  by. 


Love  is  the  spirit  of  our  sympathies. 

If  sympathies  are  true,  'twill  e'er  endure, 
And  grow  and  strengthen  through  eternal  years, 

Till  in  a  perfect  unity  secure, 
It  overcomes  all  weakness,  doubts,  and  fears, 

And  one  with  love  supreme,  it  wipes  away  all  tears. 

E.   A.    WARRINER. 

[288] 


OCTOBER   NINTH. 

LIFE  would  not  be  worth  living  without  faith.  Faith 
in  God ;  faith  in  ourselves ;  faith  in  our  fellow- 
men  ;  we  should  omit  none  of  the  three.  Without 
faith  in  God,  there  is  no  hope  for  the  soul;  without 
faith  in  self,  life  is  a  miserable  failure ;  without  faith  in 
each  other,  we  should  miss  the  sweet  joys  of  friendship. 
Keep  your  faith  bright,  let  its  lustre  never  grow  dim! 


Only  by  faith  can  you  run  the  race  which  is  set 
before  you,  as  before  those  of  old.  —  M.  HOPKINS. 


So,  if  we  cherish  in  the  heart 
The  flowers  of  faith  and  love, 

The  world's  dread  frown  can  never  blight, 
Or  cast  a  shadow  o'er  the  light 
That  bids  the  wintry  gloom  depart, 
The  light  from  Heaven  above. 

LUCIE  C.    HAGER. 


Faith  is  the  rock  on  which  I  stand ; 

The  anchor  of  my  soul ; 
The  magnet  drawing  me  above 

Where  life's  pure  waters  roll. 
Come,  trials,  come,  one  beam  of  faith 

Can  pierce  the  darkest  night ; 
'Twill  guide  me  through  the  vale  of  death, 

And  there  be  lost  in  sight. 

FANNY  CROSBY. 
A  19  [289] 


OCTOBER  TENTH. 

THE  world  is  full  of  unrecognized  heroes.  Doubt- 
less you  have  one  in  your  own  household,  or  in 
your  own  neighborhood :  and  yet  you  are  not  aware 
of  it.  Perhaps  you  are  one  yourself.  If  you  have  a 
noble,  generous  heart  that  is  overflowing  with  benevo- 
lence and  kindness  to  all  mankind,  and  you  are  living 
a  life  of  self-sacrifice  and  devotion  for  them ;  if  you 
are  walking  in  thorny  paths  ;  bearing  your  cross  with 
patience ;  if  you  are  doing  the  very  things  you  dislike 
to  do,  because  it  is  your  duty ;  if  you  are  living  among 
uncongenial  people,  and  by  your  gentleness  and  sweet- 
ness are  leading  them  nearer  to  Heaven  —  you  are  a 
hero. 

Earth's  godlike  ones! 

Who  would  not  rather  wear  the  martyr's  brow 
Than  all  the  baubles  of  her  favored  sons 

Whose  Wrong  o'ermasters  Right  ? 

The  suffering  and  the  poor, 

The  lowly  of  the  land, 
The  spirits  that  endure 

With  fainting  heart  and  hand, 

Who,  tempted  sorely,  overmuch  and  long, 

Still  bravely  choose  the  Right  and  spurn  the  Wrong ; 

They  who  serenely  bear  the  false  friend's  frown, 
Injustice,  cruelty  that  wrings  the  soul, 
Shall  yet  ...  attain  the  glorious  goal 
Where  gleams  the  Martyr's  crown ! 

ISABELLA  A.  SAXON. 
[290] 


"A 


OCTOBER   ELEVENTH. 
MERRY  heart  doeth  good  like  a  medicine." 


Why  not  make  the  best  of  life  ?  If  this  is  what  you 
are  trying  to  do,  you  are  sure  to  be  happy.  You  have 
only  a  little  space  to  fill ;  God  has  given  you  a  corner 
in  the  world  to  make  bright  and  happy,  so  that  when  a 
neighbor  or  a  stranger  comes  near  you  they  can  see  the 
halo  you  are  shedding  about  you,  and  catch  a  little  of 
your  sunshine.  Keep  singing :  the  earth  will  always 
welcome  a  blithe  song. 

A  little  bird  sat  on  a  slender  limb, 

Upward  swinging, 
And  though  wind  and  rain  were  rough  with  him 

Still  kept  singing. 

"  O  little  bird,  quick,  seek  out  your  nest!  " 
I  could  not  keep  from  calling ; 
"  The  bleak  winds  tear  your  tender  breast, 
Your  tiny  feet  are  falling." 
"  More  need  for  song 
When  things  go  wrong, 
I  was  not  meant  for  crying ; 
No  fear  for  me," 
He  piped  with  glee, 
"  My  wings  were  made  for  flying." 

I,  too,  will  sing 

Through  everything ; 
It  will  each  blessing  double, 

Nor  yet  forget, 

When  rude  winds  fret, 
To  fly  above  my  trouble. 

MYRA   GOODWIN  PLANTZ. 
[291] 


OCTOBER   TWELFTH. 

COLUMBUS  day!  Every  loyal  American  should 
hold  sacred  the  twelfth  of  October ;  it  should  be 
kept  as  one  of  the  sweetest  memorials  of  the  year. 
How  our  thoughts  travel  backward  to-day!  How,  in 
fancy,  we  sail  with  the  brave  Admiral  those  unknown 
seas,  and  imagine  ourselves  inspired  with  his  hope  and 
courage ;  and,  with  his  eager  eyes,  we  behold  afar  off 
the  beacon-light  that  leads  us  to  the  land,  the  golden 
promise-land,  to  which  our  loving  hearts  would  offer 
praise  to-day.  Oh,  may  we,  like  Columbus,  seek  the 
Country  of  our  better  hopes,  and  keep  our  faith  for- 
ever bright,  our  motto  still  —  "  press  on,  press  on ! " 


Behind  him  lay  the  gray  Azores, 

Behind  the  gates  of  Hercules  ; 
Before  him  not  a  glimpse  of  shores, 

Before  him  only  shoreless  seas. 
The  good  mate  said,  "  Now  must  we  pray, 

For  lo,  the  very  stars  are  gone  : 
Brave  Admiral,  speak  —  what  shall  I  say  ?  " 

"Why say,  'Sail  on!  sail  on!  sail  on!'" 

Then  pale  and  worn  he  kept  his  deck 

And  peered  through  darkness.  —  Ah,  that  Night 
Of  all  dark  nights!  —  And  then  —  a  speck!  — 

A  light!  a  light!  a  light!  a  light!  — 
It  grew  :  a  starlit  flag  unfurled ! 

It  grew  to  be  time's  burst  of  Dawn. 
He  gained  a  world :  he  gave  that  world 

Its  greatest  lesson,  —  on !  and  on  .' 

JOAQUIN  MILLER. 
[292] 


OCTOBER   THIRTEENTH. 

NOTHING  so  braces  the  soul  for  life's  conflict, 
nothing  is  so  sure  a  prophecy  of  victory  as  a 
heart  filled  with  the  "joy  of  the  Lord"!  But  how  may 
I  obtain  this  joy?  The  answer  is  very  short,  but  very 
comprehensive  —  be  faithful !  Happiness  is  a  roadside 
flower.  It  grows  beside  the  highway  of  obedience.  It 
is  a  coy  blessing,  and  oftenest  comes  by  indirection. 
You  are  intent  on  duty  and,  lo,  you  find  joy!  —  DR.  G. 
w.  BROWN. 

Upon  a  crutch  —  her  girlish  face 
Alight  with  love  and  tender  grace  — 
Laughing  she  limps  from  place  to  place 
Upon  a  crutch. 

And  you  and  I  who  journey  through 
A  rose-leaf  world  of  dawn  and  dew, 
We  cry  to  Heaven  overmuch. 

We  rail  and  frown  at  fate,  while  she 
And  many  more  in  agony 
Are  brave  and  patient,  strong  and  true, 
Upon  a  crutch. 

ANONYMOUS. 

May  your  life  be  filled  with  a  calm  resignation  and 
happiness  like  the  "blind  spinner  in  the  sun,"  who 
said,  — 

But  whether  this  be  seal  or  sign 

Within,  without, 
It  matters  not.     The  bond  divine 

I  never  doubt. 

I  know  He  set  me  here,  and  still, 
And  glad,  and  blind,  I  wait  His  will. 

HELEN   HUNT. 

[293] 


OCTOBER   FOURTEENTH. 

THE  soul  of  the  truly  benevolent  man  does  not 
seem  to  reside  much  in  its  own  body.  Its  life,  to 
a  great  extent,  is  a  mere  reflex  of  the  lives  of  other 
men.  It  migrates  into  their  bodies,  and,  identifying  its 
existence  with  their  existence,  finds  its  own  happiness 
in  increasing  and  prolonging  their  pleasures,  in  dis- 
tinguishing or  solacing  their  pains.  —  HORACE  MANN. 

Benevolence,  in  some  natures,  means  self-sacrifice. 
I  have  in  mind  one  man  whose  life  has  been  spent  in 
giving;  and  yet  he  is  not  rich  in  this  world's  goods. 
There  are  more  ways  of  being  benevolent  than  one. 
He  is  benevolent  in  kindness,  helpfulness,  and  courtesy. 
He  is  thoughtful  of  the  wants  and  needs  of  others, 
and  considers  his  own  comfort  and  pleasure  of  small 
account.  He  gives  as  if  it  were  a  pleasure,  and  not  a 
sacrifice.  This  is  God's  way  of  being  benevolent.  He 
gave  us  His  dearest  and  best  treasure  —  His  only  Son 
—  out  of  His  great,  warm,  generous  Heart ;  not  grudg- 
ingly or  sorrowfully,  but  willingly,  because  of  His 
wonderful  love  for  us.  Oh,  it  is  the  "cheerful  giver" 
that  God  wants  in  His  service,  —  one  whose  chief  joy 
is  in  making  others  happy  through  a  spirit  of  self-for- 
getfulness  and  kindness! 

He  who  himself  forgets,  is  worthiest  love ;  — 
His  heart-strings  tuned  to  God  above  — 
His  very  act,  his  every  thoughtful  deed, 
Expressing  to  the  world  his  Christian  creed ; 
Although  he  boasts  not,  those  who  know  him  best 
Can  of  his  life's  unselfishness  attest. 

I.  s.  T. 
[294] 


M 


OCTOBER   FIFTEENTH. 
AY  God  keep  you  "beautiful  within "  to-day! 


Happy  is  the  man  who  has  that  in  his  soul  which 
acts  upon  the  dejected  as  April  airs  upon  violet-roots. 
Gifts  from  the  hand  are  silver  and  gold,  but  the  heart 
gives  that  which  neither  silver  nor  gold  can  buy.  To 
be  full  of  goodness,  full  of  cheerfulness,  full  of  sympa- 
thy, full  of  helpful  hope,  causes  a  man  to  carry  bless- 
ings of  which  he  himself  is  as  unconscious  as  a  lamp  is 
of  its  own  shining.  Such  an  one  moves  on  human 
life  as  stars  move  on  dark  seas  to  bewildered  mariners ; 
as  the  sun  wheels,  bringing  all  the  seasons  with  him 
from  the  south.  —  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 

Seek  not  to  walk  by  borrowed  light, 

But  keep  unto  thine  own : 
Do  what  thou  doest  with  thy  might, 

And  trust  thyself  alone ! 

Work  for  some  good,  nor  idly  lie 

Within  the  human  hive  ; 
And  though  the  outward  man  should  die, 

Keep  thou  the  heart  alive! 

ALICE  GARY. 

Inward  turn 
Each  thought  and  every  sense, 

For  sorrow  lingers  from  without, 
Thou  canst  not  charm  it  thence, 

But  all  attun'd  the  soul  may  be 

Unto  a  deathless  melody. 

ELIZABETH  OAKES   SMITH. 
[295] 


OCTOBER   SIXTEENTH. 

BRIGHT  days  and  dark  days,  pleasure  and  pain, 
rough  paths  and  smooth  ones,  gains  and  losses, 
all  go  to  make  up  our  life.  Have  you  lived  for  a  pur- 
pose? Have  you  made  use  of  all  the  joys  and  sorrows, 
the  prosperity  and  adversity  which  have  fallen  to  your 
lot?  If  so,  you  have  not  lived  in  vain.  Do  you  know 
that  the  trial  of  temper  yesterday,  over  which  you  are 
grieving  to-day,  ought  to  have  made  you  better  instead 
of  worse?  Do  you  know  that  the  disappointment 
which  you  found  so  hard  to  bear,  ought  to  have  been 
a  cause  for  victory  to  you,  instead  of  defeat?  These 
are  God's  tests :  you  can  make  them  stairs  upon  which 
to  climb  Heavenward,  if  you  will.  Crosses  have 
helped  to  make  some  of  the  world's  noblest  men  and 
women. 


My  days  are  stairs  that  lead  to  life's  great  end, 
And  one  by  one  I  steadily  ascend ; 
Climbing  with  purpose  true  the  upward  road 
That  brings  me  to  the  city  of  my  God. 

Sometimes  it  is  a  slippery  step  I  tread, 
And  fierce  temptation  makes  my  soul  afraid ; 
But  held  in  Christ's  dear  hands,  so  tender,  strong, 
The  next  I  mount  with  courage  and  a  song. 

Each  step  in  the  long  course  a  history  has ; 
I  make  a  mark  as  one  by  one  I  pass ; 
A  gladsome  record  here,  a  tear-spot  there, 
A  rescued  soul,  a  struggle  or  a  prayer. 

HELEN   E.    BROWN. 


OCTOBER   SEVENTEENTH. 

LET  this  be  your  petition  for  to-day  :  "  Dear  Lord, 
lift  me  above  the  world,  nearer  to  Thee!"  The 
reason  why  we  are  so  full  of  faults  and  are  so  imper- 
fect, is  that  we  are  too  far  away  from  God.  The 
closer  we  follow  our  Pattern,  the  more  we  shall  imitate 
it ;  the  further  we  remove  from  the  world,  with  all  its 
vexations  and  annoyances,  the  nearer  we  get  to  Him. 
Let  us  ask  then,  to  have  the  sweet  inward  peace  that 
possesses  the  soul  of  the  true  believer,  so  that  in  time 
of  joy  and  grief,  and  at  all  seasons  of  the  year,  we 
may  rise  on  wings  of  faith,  above  the  things  of  earth, 
and  hold  fellowship  with  God. 


Lift  me  higher,  O  my  Saviour, 

As  I  journey  on  my  way, 
Help  me  over  life's  deep  pitfalls, 

Draw  me  nearer  day  by  day ; 
Lift  me  up  from  doubt  and  darkness, 

Let  me  feel  Thy  loving  care 
While  I  hear  Thy  tender  accents, 

Like  a  whisper  in  the  air. 

Lift  me  from  unworthy  self-hood, 

Let  me  set  my  will  aside 
While  I  measure  Thy  forbearance, 

While  I  count  Thy  mercies  wide ; 
Every  burden,  every  trial, 

Every  sorrow  I  may  feel, 
Every  act  of  lowly  service,  — 

May  they  lift  me  higher  still! 

MARTHA  C.   OLIVER. 


[297]  .1 


OCTOBER   EIGHTEENTH. 

is  a  grand  thing,  if  directed  in  the  right 
*  channel.  To  be  zealous  in  a  good  cause,  with  a 
proper  motive,  is  very  desirable.  It  is  well  also,  to 
have  knowledge,  as  well  as  zeal :  people  who  allow 
their  zeal  to  overbalance  their  knowledge  often  make 
very  grievous  blunders,  and  have  many  things  to  regret. 
It  is  well  to  weigh  a  matter  before  acting  upon  your 
first  decision  —  especially  a  matter  of  much  importance. 
Take  time  to  consider ;  allow  your  judgment  and  reason 
to  guide  you,  lest  your  zeal  should  lead  you  into  serious 
error.  It  may  be  that  one  zealous  act  —  where  your 
zeal  is  utterly  devoid  of  knowledge  —  may  cause  you 
the  regret  of  a  life-time.  Use  your  zeal  aright;  if 
wisely  directed,  it  will  prove  to  you  a  great  blessing. 

Press  bravely  onward !  —  not  in  vain 
Your  generous  trust  in  human  kind  ; 

The  good  which  bloodshed  could  not  gain 
Your  peaceful  zeal  shall  find. 

J.   G.   WHITTIER. 

Spread  out  earth's  holiest  records  here, 
Of  days  and  deeds  to  reverence  dear ; 
A  zeal  like  this  what  pious  legends  tell  ? 

CHARLES   SPRAGUE. 

How  beautiful  it  is  for  man  to  die 
Upon  the  walls  of  Zion !  to  be  call'd 
Like  a  watch-worn  and  weary  sentinel, 
To  put  his  armor  off,  and  rest  —  in  Heaven ! 

N.    P.   WILLIS. 


OCTOBER   NINETEENTH. 

T  TSUALLY,  when  you  hear  people  condemning  the 
>-'  world,  and  wishing  they  were  out  of  it,  you  may 
depend  upon  it,  they  are  not  doing  much  good  in  it. 
The  man  who  gets  the  most  out  of  life,  is  the  one  who 
puts  the  most  into  it.  We  were  put  here  to  overcome 
the  world ;  to  combat  with  sin  and  evil,  and  to  pass 
through  the  furnace  of  affliction,  from  which  it  was 
intended  we  should  come  forth  refined,  purified,  and 
made  better. 

Yes,  "  Laugh,  and  the  world  laughs  with  thee," 

God  made  it  a  joyful  world ; 
But  if  from  the  height  of  fortune 

Thou  hast  been  in  a  moment  hurled, 
When  that  same  gay  world  hath  heard  thee 

Cry  out  from  the  fire  or  the  flood, 
There  were  ever  brave  hearts  to  venture, 

For  thy  rescue,  their  own  life-blood. 

JULIA  A.   F.    CARNEY. 

O  world,  so  few  the  years  we  live, 
Would  that  the  life  which  thou  dost  give 
Were  life  indeed! 

HENRY  W.   LONGFELLOW. 

God  has  placed  us  in  the  world  that  we  might  bear 
our  part  in  it.  And  what,  you  ask,  is  our  part?  It  is 
to  be  up  and  doing ! 

Our  part  is  to  be  doing,  with  a  gladness  which  shines 
in  the  countenance  and  makes   the  tongue  musical. 
That  is  the  spirit  which  should  pervade  every  Christian 
psalm  of  life.  —  E.  A.  TANNER. 
[299] 


OCTOBER   TWENTIETH. 

BEHOLD,  I  make  all  things  new.  —  REVELATION 
21:  5. 

Do  not  think,  because  the  leaves  are  dying  and  the 
summer  birds  are  beginning  to  make  preparations  for 
flight,  that  it  is  a  dismal  time,  and  a  time  in  which  to 
mourn  and  sigh  for  vanishing  glories.  The  Year  has 
faithfully  done  her  best :  the  heart  of  Nature  has  been 
singing  for  joy  in  the  birds  and  streams  and  whisper- 
ing leaves,  and  now  the  resting-time  has  come.  Dear 
Friend,  this  is  another  day ;  yesterday's  opportunities 
are  over ;  your  dead  leaves  are  all  taken  away  —  there 
are  no  hindrances  that  come  with  the  sunrise :  yester- 
day's scattered  seed  will  not  do  for  to-day,  —  you  must 
drop  more  seed ;  and  if  more  dead  leaves  of  failures 
and  hindrances  appear,  pick  them  off.  God  says,  "  Be- 
hold I  make  all  things  new  " ;  get  rid  of  the  old  growth, 
that  the  new  one  may  be  the  more  perfect.  It  is  well 
to  begin  a  new  day  with  a  new  heart. 


In  the  world  without  and  the  world  within 

He  maketh  the  old  things  new ; 
The  touch  of  sorrow,  the  stain  of  sin, 
Have  fled  from  the  gate  where  the  King  came  in, 

From  the  chill  night's  damp  and  dew. 

Anew  in  the  heavens  the  sweet  stars  shine, 

On  earth  new  blossoms  spring ; 
The  old  life  lost  in  the  Life  divine, 
"  Thy  will  be  mine,  my  will  is  Thine," 

Is  the  song  which  the  new  hearts  sing. 

MARY  LOWE   DICKINSON. 
[300] 


OCTOBER   TWENTY-FIRST. 

HPHIS  may  be  a  day  when  you  feel  a  particular  need 
J-  of  God.  Then  do  not  be  afraid  to  tell  Him  so. 
Perhaps,  on  account  of  some  heavy  trial,  some  peculiar 
temptation,  or  some  unexpected  sorrow,  God  may  seem 
to  be  very  far  off.  Let  your  petition  be,  "  Forsake  me 
not ! "  and  if  you  listen  in  faith  for  His  reply,  I  doubt 
not  it  will  be,  "  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake 
thee!" 

Forsake  me  not,  dear  God,  though  I  forget  Thee, 

And  trusting  to  myself  go  blindly  on ; 
Oh!  bring  me  back  to  Thee  again!  and  let  me 

In  meekness  know  my  boasted  strength  is  gone : 
And  if  I  falter,  waiting  for  the  morning, 

Then  let  Thy  grace  my  every  need  supply, 
What  matter,  if  I  have  its  rich  adorning, 

Though  neither  gold  nor  precious  gems  have  I  ? 

Forsake  me  not,  breathe  Thou  into  my  being 

The  very  breath  of  Heaven  from  above ; 
Unseal  mine  eyes,  that  I,  Thy  goodness  seeing, 

May  know  and  feel  Thy  deep,  Thy  boundless  love ; 
In  storm  or  calm,  be  Thou,  O  God,  beside  me  — 

That  I,  Thy  child,  may  never  be  forgot ; 
Thro1  shade  or  sun,  by  day  or  night-time  guide  me  — 

Thro'  all  my  journey,  oh,  forsake  me  not ! 

And  when  I  reach  death's  dim  overshadowed  river, 
When  earth's  poor  gains  and  losses  are  forgot  — 

Divine  Redeemer,  Precious  Heavenly  Giver, 
Be  Thou  still  near  me!  oh,  forsake  me  not! 

IDA   SCOTT  TAYLOR. 
[301] 


OCTOBER   TWENTY-SECOND. 

'""T'HE  path  of  duty  I  clearly  trace, 
J-    I  stand  with  conscience  face  to  face, 

And  all  her  pleas  allow ; 
Calling  and  crying  the  while  for  grace,  — 
"  Some  other  time,  and  some  other  place ; 

Oh,  not  to-day;  not  now!" 

ALICE  GARY. 

Procrastination  usually  results  in  sorrowful  regret. 
To-day's  duties  put  off  until  to-morrow  give  us  a 
double  burden  to  bear ;  the  best  way  is  to  do  them  at 
their  proper  time.  "  Never  put  off  until  to-morrow 
what  you  can  do  to-day,"  is  a  good  old  maxim :  you 
will  find  it  a  reliable  rule  to  follow,  and  by  closely 
adhering  to  it  you  will  be  saved  a  great  deal  of  trouble, 
sorrow,  and  regret. 

There's  a  little  mischief  maker 

That  is  stealing  half  our  bliss, 
Sketching  pictures  in  a  dreamland 

That  are  never  seen  in  this  ; 
Dashing  from  our  lips  the  pleasure 

Of  the  present,  while  we  sigh  ; 
You  may  know  this  mischief  makei 

For  his  name  is  "  By-and-by." 

"  By-and-by  "  the  wind  is  singing ; 

"  By-and-by  "  the  heart  replies  ; 
But  the  phantom,  just  before  us, 

Ere  we  grasp  it,  ever  flies. 

JAMES   W.    BARKER. 
[302] 


L 


OCTOBER   TWENTY-THIRD. 

AY  new  hold  of  Life  and  Time.  —  JOHN  HUGH 
MCNAUGHTON. 


Silently  the  years  glide  by,  leaving  us  always  some- 
thing sweet  to  remember.  One  by  one  the  little  hours 
run  into  days,  the  days  into  months,  and  lo!  another 
year  has  plumed  itself  for  flight  almost  before  we  are 
aware.  Look  back  on  the  past  to-day;  see  with  what 
love  and  tenderness  God  has  led  you,  and  how  you 
have  been  blessed  through  all  the  changing  years. 
True,  your  life  has  had  its  shadows,  but  they  were 
always  overbalanced  by  the  sunshine.  May  God  give 
you  many  sweet,  happy  years  full  of  gentle  ministra- 
tions and  faithful  service  for  Him  ! 

Every  year  is  a  pearl,  dear, 

Perfect  and  pure  and  fair, 
That  God  lets  grow  within  your  life, 

Trusting  it  to  your  care. 

So  watch  your  precious  pearls,  dear, 

And  keep  them  ever  bright, 
That  with  the  crown  jewels  they  may  glow, 

At  last,  in  the  infinite  light. 

ANONYMOUS. 

The  years  they  come,  and  the  years  they  go, 

While  Time,  with  a  tide  of  ceaseless  flow, 

Is  bearing  us  over  life's  changing  hours, 

Now  under  the  shadows,  now  'mid  the  flowers, 

But  ever  anon,  toward  Eternity's  shore, 

Where  Time,  with  his  changes,  shall  come  no  more. 

LUCY   H.    WASHINGTON. 
[303] 


OCTOBER   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

VIEWED  merely  as  a  human  or  literary  production, 
the  Bible  is  a  marvellous  book,  and  without  a 
rival.  It  uses  all  forms  of  literary  composition;  it 
rises  to  the  highest  heights  and  descends  to  the  low- 
est depths  of  humanity  ;  it  measures  all  the  states  and 
conditions  of  life  ;  it  is  acquainted  with  every  grief  and 
every  woe ;  it  touches  every  chord  of  sympathy ;  it 
contains  the  spiritual  biography  of  every  human  heart. 
It  is  as  universal  as  the  race,  and  reaches  beyond  the 
limits  of  time  into  the  boundless  regions  of  eternity. 
Of  all  the  books  in  the  world,  the  Bible  is  the  only 
one  of  which  we  never  tire,  but  which  we  admire  and 
love  more  and  more  in  proportion  as  we  use  it.  Like 
the  diamond,  it  casts  its  lustre  in  every  direction ;  like 
a  torch,  the  more  it  is  shaken,  the  more  it  shines ; 
like  a  healing  herb,  the  harder  it  is  pressed,  the  sweeter 
is  its  fragrance.  —  PHILIP  SCHAFF. 

The  Bible !  how  dear  are  its  pages ! 

Resplendent  with  beauty  and  light ; 
It  comes  from  the  far  distant  ages 

To  banish  the  darkness  of  night. 
On  earth  there's  but  one  such  a  treasure 

Of  riches  so  pure  and  so  deep  ; 
'Tis  one  that  no  mortal  can  measure, 

Embracing  all  time  in  its  sweep. 

G.  W.  CROFTS. 

Thy  Word  is  a  lamp  to  my  feet,  O  Lord, 
Thy  Word  is  a  light  to  my  way ; 

It  shines  in  my  soul  like  a  star  by  night, 
And  comforts  and  cheers  me  by  day. 

GRACE   J.  FRANCES. 
[304] 


OCTOBER  TWENTY-FIFTH. 

T7VERY  one  may  not  be  fair  without,  but  they  may 
-L-'  be  fair  within.  There  is  nothing  nearer  akin  to 
Heaven  and  the  angels,  than  purity.  Pure  thoughts 
and  pure  words  proceed  only  from  a  pure  heart ;  let 
us,  therefore,  see  to  it  that  our  hearts  are  spotless,  and 
then  shall  our  influence  be  beautiful,  and  the  lily  of 
purity  shall  send  forth  daily  sweetness  from  our  souls. 

Pure  in  heart,  O  God, 

Help  me  to  be ; 
May  I  devote  my  life 

Wholly  to  Thee. 
Watch  Thou  my  wayward  feet, 
Guide  me  with  counsel  sweet ; 

Pure  in  heart 
Help  me  to  be. 

MRS.  A.  L.  DAVISON. 

The  angels  said  "  God  giveth  you 

His  love  —  what  more  is  ours? 
And  even  as  the  gentle  dew 

Descends  upon  the  flowers, 

"  His  grace  descends,  and  as  of  old, 

He  walks  with  men  apart, 
Keeping  the  promise  as  foretold, 

With  all  the  pure  in  heart. 

"  Thou  needst  not  ask  the  angels  where 

His  habitation  be ; 
Keep  thou  thy  spirit  clean  and  fair, 

And  He  shall  dwell  with  thee." 

ALICE  GARY. 
A  20  [305] 


OCTOBER   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

appointments  are  sometimes  our  disappoint- 
ments,  but  His  way  is  always  best. 
Our  faith  often  becomes  very  dim  :  pride,  selfishness, 
and  daily  cares  rise  up  before  us  and  obscure  the  light 
that  is  shining  for  us  in  God's  beautiful  sky.  We 
grow  sick  and  discouraged  over  life's  mysteries :  we 
try  to  fathom  the  whys  and  hows  of  our  Father's  plans, 
and  even  go  so  far  as  to  feel  impatient  with  Him 
because  we  cannot  have  our  heart's  desires  fulfilled, 
and  because  He  allows  our  path  to  be  rough  and 
uneven. 

Sometimes  life's  plans  are  thwarted  —  plans  made 
with  all  sincerity  of  purpose  —  yet  He  blocks  the  way. 
We  stop  to  ask,  Why?  Did  we  not  plan  to  do  this 
to  serve  God?  Hush,  rebellious  thought.  It  is  His 
appointment.  He  has  some  other  place  for  you  to 
fill.  A  place  where  you  can  do  more  and  be  happier. 
His  appointment  is  best.  — JUVENIS  PASTOR. 

This  thing  on  which  thy  heart  was  set,  this  thing  that 

cannot  be, 
This  weary,  disappointing  day  that  dawns,  my  friend, 

for  thee : 
Be  comforted;    God  knoweth   best,  the   God  whose 

name  is  love, 

Whose  tender  care  is  evermore  our  passing  lives  above. 
He  sends  the  disappointments !     Well,  then,  take  them 

from  His  hand ; 
Shall  God's  appointments  seem  less  good  than  what 

thyself  had  planned  ? 

MARGARET  E.    SANGSTER. 
[306] 


OCTOBER  TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

HUSKING-TIME! 

AND  now,  in  all  the  quiet  fields  the  rustling  corn  lies 
low.  All  day  the  busy  laborers  toil  to  stack  their 
bladed  wigwams  high ;  and  here  and  there,  a  tasselled 
husk  is  left  to  show  where  late  the  golden  corn  was  hid 
all  ripened  in  the  rustling  ear.  The  orchards  bend  with 
fruited  store,  the  vineyards  droop  with  unmade  wine, 
and  everywhere  the  husker's  song  goes  ringing  through 
the  autumn  air.  O  Friend,  canst  thou  no  lesson  find  ? 
doth  not  the  season  teach  thee  this,  that  God  will  take 
thy  corn  and  wine,  and  stripping  off  the  outer  husks, 
will  gather  in  thy  precious  store,  when  life's  brief 
Autumn-time  is  past,  to  keep  through  the  Eternal 
Years?  Then  thank  Him  for  the  season's  gifts,  for 
fruit  and  corn  and  wine,  and  make  thy  heart's  abun- 
dance yield  as  rich  a  harvest  as  them  all ! 

Sing,  heart  of  mine,  the  year  is  ripe, 
Full  harvests  bless  the  fruitful  land ; 

Life's  royal  fruitage  waiteth  too 
The  tender  Master's  garnering  hand. 

Sing,  heart  of  mine,  for  God  is  good, 
Who  fills  the  ear  and  bending  sheaf: 

Who  hides  the  clusters  of  the  vine 
Beneath  the  golden  autumn  leaf. 

SYLVIA  BROWN. 

Grant,  Lord,  that  we  may  ripened  be, 

With  Thee  to  dwell  eternally ; 
Great  Source  whence  all  our  comforts  flow, 

May  we  Thy  saving  bounty  know. 

EVA   MUNSON   SMITH. 
[307] 


OCTOBER   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

IT  is  difficult  to  maintain  a  close  walk  with  God 
because  we  are  fond  of  our  own  way.  We  are  not 
willing  to  give  it  up  ;  but  to  walk  in  our  way  is  to  lose 
God's  company,  and  to  fill  our  souls  with  darkness  and 
trouble.  It  is  not  that  God  ever  parts  company  with 
us,  but  that  we  part  company  with  Him.  It  is  not  said 
that  God  walked  with  Enoch,  but  that  Enoch  walked 
with  God.  — ANONYMOUS. 


There  are  just  two  paths,  a  right  one  and  a  wrong 
one.  One  leads  to  God,  and  the  other  to  the  Evil 
One.  One  is  full  of  trials ;  it  is  not  an  easy  road  to 
travel,  because  it  requires  patience,  perseverance,  and 
daily  conflict  with  temptation.  It  requires  the  victory 
over  self,  the  world,  and  sin,  but  the  end  is  worth 
striving  for. 


Ah!  yes,  it  is  the  right  path,  though  crooked  be  the 

road; 
Ah!   yes,  it  is  the  right  cross,  though  heavy  be  the 

load. 
All  crooked  paths  are  straightened,  for  Jesus  made  the 

way; 
Each  cross  we  feel  gets  lighter,  when  strengthened 

day  by  day 

By  God,  who  is  our  refuge,  our  righteousness,  our  stay. 
Let  us  journey  through  the  wilderness  until  our  race  be 

run, 
And  sing  as  shadows  lengthen,  "Thy  will,  O  God!  be 

done." 

FANNY   LONSDALE. 
[308] 


OCTOBER   TWENTY-NINTH. 

MAY  this  be  to  you  a  profitable  day!  Find  time 
for  something  besides  your  own  ease  and  enjoy- 
ment, something  besides  the  things  you  want  to  do  — 
your  own  comforts  and  pleasures  ;  make  a  little  sacrifice, 
if  need  be,  to  help  some  one  along,  and  you  will  find  a 
great  deal  more  happiness  in  it  than  in  serving  merely 
your  own  interests. 

If  we  sit  down  at  set  of  sun, 

And  count  the  things  that  we  have  done, 

And  counting,  find 
One  self-denying  act,  one  word 
That  eased  the  heart  of  him  that  heard, 

One  glance  most  kind 
That  fell  like  sunshine  where  it  went, 
Then  we  may  count  the  day  well  spent. 

But  if,  through  all  the  livelong  day, 
WeVe  eased  no  heart  by  yea  or  nay ; 

If  through  it  all 

We've  done  no  thing  that  we  can  trace, 
That  brought  the  sunshine  to  a  face, 

No  act  most  small 

That  helped  some  soul,  and  nothing  cost, 
Then  count  that  day  as  more  than  lost. 

ELLA  WHEELER. 

This  morn  thou  didst  promise  God 

With  earth  in  tune  to  keep ; 
Sweet  music  the  earth  has  made, 

And  thou  —  ah!  go  and  weep. 

KATE   Y.    SILL. 

[309] 


OCTOBER   THIRTIETH. 

WE  gain  glimpses  of  the  infinitude,  the  limitless 
character  of  God's  power  in  the  exhibitions  of 
it  in  the  elements.  When  the  volcano,  the  earth- 
quake, or  the  thunderbolt  has  done  its  work,  we  are 
led,  in  looking  at  the  ruins,  to  exclaim,  "  This  is  but  a 
part  of  what  power  lodged  in  the  elements  might  have 
accomplished,  had  God  so  willed."  No  one  will  be 
rash  enough  to  claim  that  in  any  exhibition  of  power, 
by  the  elements,  since  the  world  began,  all  was  accom- 
plished which  might  have  been.  We  thus  are  clearly 
directed  to  that  Being  whose  power  is  like  all  His  other 
attributes  —  without  bounds  and  limitations. — w.  w. 

HARSHA. 

If  God's  power  and  majesty  are  so  great  as  this  — 
that  He  holds  in  His  hands  the  heavens  and  the  earth, 
and  manages  the  elements  by  His  divine  will,  should 
we  not  be  willing  to  trust  ourselves  and  our  all  to  Him  ? 
Let  us  lift  our  heart  to  Him  in  adoration  to-day,  and 
say,  "  I  acknowledge  Thee,  O  God,  as  my  God  hence- 
forth and  forever!" 

The  Infinite  of  infinites  is  He, 

The  God  of  gods,  the  All  in  all,  the  Whole 
Of  consciousness  in  being,  One  in  three. 

Nature  of  natures,  Love  of  loves,  the  Soul 
Of  souls,  the  Life  of  lives. 

E.   A.   WARRINER. 

God  speaks,  the  suns  flash  into  light ; 

God  smiles,  and  flowers  the  fields  adorn ; 
God  breathes,  and  fragrance  fills  the  air ; 

God  loves,  and  human  souls  are  born. 

LYDIA   HOYT  FARMER. 


OCTOBER  THIRTY-FIRST. 

SORROW  and  the  scarlet  leaf, 
Sad  thoughts  and  sunny  weather ; 
Ah  me!  this  glory  and  this  grief 
Agree  not  well  together! 

T.  w.  PARSONS. 


The  autumn  leaves  burn  red  and  gold,  as  if  en- 
kindled one  by  one  by  Nature's  warm  and  cheery  fires 
to  light  the  footsteps  of  the  year.  The  season  wings 
its  onward  flight ;  the  year  is  running  fast  its  course, 
but  ere  it  dies,  behold  how  bright,  how  beautiful,  how 
glorious,  its  orient  hues!  "And  must  it  die?"  you 
grieving  ask.  We  call  it  death ;  it  only  sleeps,  aye, 
sleeps  and  rests,  and  in  the  dawning  Spring  shall  wake, 
and  bloom  again,  and  tell  once  more  to  all  mankind 
the  story  old  —  yet  new  —  of  immortality !  So,  too,  our 
lives  shall  folded  lie,  within  the  darkness  of  the  grave, 
but  shortly  rise  in  Heaven's  Spring,  and  bloom  to  all 
Eternity.  The  soul  was  never  born  to  die! 


We  too  shall  fade,  as  fades  the  leaf, 
Be  gathered  like  the  golden  sheaf, 
And  resting  from  our  works  begun, 
Full  soon  shall  find  our  race  is  run. 

What  matter,  if  the  soul  shall  rise 
To  find  new  glories  in  the  skies ! 
What  matter  when  the  call  is  given, 
So  life's  October  ends  in  Heaven! 

IDA   SCOTT  TAYLOR. 


OR  THE   MONTH 
OF   NOVEMBER. 


NOVEMBER  FIRST. 

TVTOVEMBER!  her  stone  the  topaz;  her  motto 
-L  ^1  fidelity.  The  warm,  rich  colors  of  the  topaz  are 
lighting  the  dawn  of  November,  and  all  her  sunsets 
will  wear  their  soft  amber  glow,  with  glints  of  rose  and 
flame  that  usher  in  the  mellow,  Indian-Summer  days. 
The  month's  motto  is  fidelity.  Let  us  take  it  as  our 
own,  and  be  faithful  and  true  in  all  things  —  in  attend- 
ance to  duty,  in  vigilance  over  self,  and  in  our  duty 
to  our  Heavenly  Father.  Oh,  let  us  spend  a  happy, 
useful  November!  Even  though  the  year  is  dying, 
let  us  not  spend  the  time  in  idle  grieving,  but  make 
its  hours  as  bright  as  we  can. 

No  wonder  earth  is  sad  for  sweet  things  dying, 
And  grieves  to  think  of  bloom  and  beauty  fled  ; 

Though  she  may  call,  there  will  be  no  replying, 
And  so  she  mourns  to-day  uncomforted. 

Be  patient,  earth,  you  have  your  time  of  losses, 
Of  vanished  brightness  and  of  things  to  miss  ; 

And  as  the  souls  of  men  bear  on  their  crosses, 
Forgetting  what  may  be  in  that  which  is. 

But  unto  you  another  Spring  returning 
Will  bring  you  gladness  ;  and  to  souls  of  men 

Will  come  the  Spring  for  which  each  one  is  yearning, 
And  that  which  seemeth  death  will  live  again. 

EBEN   E.   REXFORD. 


W.   D.    HOWELLS 

1837 


NOVEMBER   SECOND. 

WITHIN  the  sombre  realm  of  leafless  trees, 
The  russet  Year  inhaled  the  dreamy  air ; 
Like  some  tanned  reaper  in  his  hour  of  ease, 
When  all  the  fields  are  lying  brown  and  bare. 

THOMAS  BUCHANAN   READ. 

Like  sweet  love  late  in  life, 
These  flowers  bloom  most  gay  — 

When  autumn  winds  are  rife, 
And  dead  leaves  strew  the  way. 

CERES   KEENER   TAYLOR. 

Still  November,  like  a  Quaker 

In  her  garb  of  silver  gray, 
Glides  along  the  silent  reaches 

Shadow-like,  as  dawn  of  day  : 
Gay  chrysanthemums  she  carries 

From  the  garden-lands  abloom, 
And  the  bracing  air  is  laden 

With  the  spice  of  their  perfume. 

She  is  full  of  tender  fancies, 

As  she  wanders  here  and  there  — 
Standing  underneath  the  branches 

That  are  shadowy  and  bare, 
And  we  feel  a  silent  something 

In  our  heart  of  hearts  increase, 
And  I  think  the  definition 

Of  its  meaning  might  be,  — peace. 

IDA   SCOTT  TAYLOR. 

May  the  peace  of  November  fill  your  heart  to-day ! 
[313] 


NOVEMBER  THIRD. 

BEAUTY  is  the  mark  God  sets  on  virtue.  —  RALPH 
WALDO   EMERSON. 


If  either  man  or  woman  would  realize  the  full  power 
of  personal  beauty,  it  must  be  by  cherishing  noble 
thoughts  and  hopes  and  purposes ;  by  having  some- 
thing to  do  and  something  to  live  for  that  is  worthy  of 
humanity,  and  which,  by  expanding  the  capacities  of 
the  soul,  gives  expansion  and  symmetry  to  the  body 
which  contains  it.  —  UPHAM. 


Beautiful  faces  are  those  that  wear  — 
It  matters  little  if  dark  or  fair  — 
Whole-souled  honesty  printed  there. 

Beautiful  eyes  are  those  that  show, 

Like  crystal  panes  where  hearth-fires  glow, 

Beautiful  thoughts  that  burn  below. 

Beautiful  lips  are  those  whose  words 
Leap  from  the  heart  like  songs  of  birds, 
Yet  whose  utterance  prudence  girds. 

Beautiful  hands  are  those  that  do 
Work  that  is  earnest  and  brave  and  true, 
Moment  by  moment  the  long  day  through. 

Beautiful  shoulders  are  those  that  bear 
Ceaseless  burdens  of  homely  care 
With  patient  grace  and  with  daily  care. 

ELLEN  P.   ALLERTON. 
[314] 


NOVEMBER   FOURTH. 

A  SUCCESSFUL  day  to  you!  There  is  no  nation 
under  the  sun,  but  has  its  ambition,  no  matter 
how  ignorant  nor  how  humble  it  is.  The  world  strives 
for  success.  Success  seldom  comes  easily ;  it  is  usually 
the  patient  toiler  who  achieves  the  grandest  results. 
If  you  would  be  successful  in  your  undertakings  then, 
you  must  not  give  up  and  grow  discouraged,  because 
your  object  is  not  reached  at  once.  Years  of  faithful, 
earnest  application  have  made  the  celebrated  artists, 
musicians,  inventors,  and  scholars.  The  success  that 
is  worth  anything  is  gained  through  courage  and  perse- 
verance. Do  not  count  the  time  you  put  into  your 
work ;  count  the  success  you  get  out  of  it. 

The  mountain  of  success  is  steep  and  rough, 
Who  gains  the  summit  climbs  a  weary  way ; 

And,  though  brave  feet  grow  stronger  with  rebuff, 
The  rocky  path  a  coward's  steps  may  stay. 

A  soft  breeze  steals  athwart  that  height  of  bliss, 
Bringing  new  life  to  many  a  fainting  frame ; 

Cheeks  burn  and  glow  beneath  its  passioned  kiss, 
And  hearts  grow  young,  —  it  is  the  breath  of  Fame ! 

Climb  on,  ye  toilers  up  the  mountain  side! 

Climb   on,  through   storm  and  sun,  through  dark 

and  light! 
Who  perseveres  may  stand  at  eventide 

And  view  the  landscape  from  Success's  Height! 

EMMA   C.   DOWD. 

There  is  no  success  without  you  work  for  it.     You 
cannot  extemporize  success. — JAMES  A.  GARFIELD. 

[315] 


NOVEMBER   FIFTH. 

THROW  down  your  burdens,  and  take  up  a  song  of 
praise ;  be  glad  for  the  daily  mercies,  and  do  not 
take  them  as  a  matter  of  course.  Isn't  it  strange  how 
little  people  think  of  their  mercies?  And  yet  God 
sets  them  apart  for  us  every  day ;  each  day  has  its  por- 
tion. Jeremiah  says,  "  They  are  new  every  morning," 
and  so  they  are :  fresh  as  the  dew,  they  come  to  us 
from  the  hand  of  God,  showered  abundantly  on  all 
His  creatures.  Count  them  over,  make  a  list  of  them, 
write  them  down  in  the  tablets  of  your  heart,  and  then 
when  you  sit  and  wonder  at  God's  great  goodness  to 
you,  in  your  unworthiness,  look  up  to  Him  and  be 
thankful. 

I  used  to  come  with  a  burden  of  care, 

Many  times  a  day, 
Kneel  low  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and  there 

Would  tearfully  pray. 
But  to  come  with  a  burden  so  often, 

Is  not  the  Lord's  way. 

So  now  I  come  with  a  heart-felt  praise, 

And  a  soulful  song. 
I  have  nothing  else  to  bring,  for  the  days 

With  mercies  are  strung. 

What  have  I  done  with  my  wearisome  load  ? 

Why,  one  blessed  day, 
I  learned  I  had  just  to  roll  it  on  God, 

Ere  I  went  to  pray, 
And  to  carry  thanks,  the  heart's  best  jewels 

To  crown  Him  alway. 

A.  C.  SCAMMEL. 

[316] 


NOVEMBER   SIXTH. 

THE  time  is  short!  In  such  a  little  while  life's  race 
.  will  be  run  :  the  place  you  have  filled  in  society,  in 
business,  in  church,  and  in  the  household  will  be  sup- 
plied by  some  one  else.  The  people  may  look  from 
their  windows  and  miss  you  from  the  street,  but  it  will 
not  be  for  long :  the  wheel  of  Time  will  roll  on  just  as 
quietly  and  relentlessly  as  ever,  and  nothing  will  speak 
for  you  but  your  words  and  deeds.  How  important  it 
is  then,  that  they  should  be  worth  remembering. 

Race  follows  upon  race, 
Forgetting  and  forgotten  ;  in  their  place 
Sink  tower  and  temple ;  nothing  long  may  stay. 
We  build  on  tombs,  and  live  our  day,  and  die ; 
From  out  our  dust  new  towers  and  temples  start ; 
Our  very  name  becomes  a  mystery. 

THOMAS  BAILEY  ALDRICH. 

Up,  up  my  soul,  the  long-spent  time  redeeming ; 

Sow  thou  the  seeds  of  better  deeds  and  thought ; 
Light  other  lamps  while  yet  thy  lamp  is  beaming  — 

The  time  is  short. 

Think  of  the  good  thou  might'st  have  done  when 
brightly 

The  suns  to  thee  life's  choicest  season  brought ; 
Hours  lost  to  God  in  pleasure  passing  lightly  — 

The  time  is  short. 

If  thou  hast  friends  give  them  thy  best  endeavor, 
Thy  warmest  impulse  and  thy  purest  thought, 

Keeping  in  mind  and  word  and  action  ever  — 
The  time  is  short. 

ELIZABETH   PRENTISS. 
[317] 


NOVEMBER   SEVENTH. 

IN  all  the  affairs  of  human  life,  social  as  well  as  politi- 
cal, I  have  remarked  that  courtesies  of  a  small  and 
trivial  character  are  the  ones  that  strike  deepest  to  the 
grateful  and  appreciating  heart.  —  HENRY  CLAY. 

True  courtesy  is  as  beautiful  as  it  is  rare.  We  see 
plenty  of  people  who  have  "  company  manners,"  and 
who  imagine  themselves  to  be  very  polite,  but  the 
true  gentleman  is  the  one  to  whom  dress  or  society 
makes  no  difference.  He  is  just  as  much  a  gentleman 
in  homespun  as  he  would  be  in  broadcloth.  He  may 
climb  from  a  lowly  sphere  to  an  exalted  one ;  he  may 
change  his  attire  from  a  workingman's  to  a  man  of 
wealth  and  ease,  but  he  will  never  change  his  manners. 
Courtesy  is  something  which  cannot  be  put  on  in  the 
morning  and  taken  off  at  night :  once  in  the  possession 
of  a  man  or  woman,  it  reveals  itself  in  every  act  and 
word.  It  always  pays  to  be  courteous,  that  is  if  it  is 
genuine :  a  man  cannot  be  a  true  gentleman  without 
being  courteous,  and  it  must  be,  —  not  mere  surface 
polish,  but  an  outgrowth  from  the  heart.  This  is  what 
the  "  true  gentleman  "  is  like : 

He  has  respect  for  other  men, 

Whate'er  their  clime  or  creed.  — 
He  hails  mankind  as  brothers  when 

They  come  to  him  in  need. 
He  measures  all  men  by  their  worth, 

And  meets  them  on  the  sod 
As  brothers  of  a  common  birth, 

All  children  of  one  God. 

FRANCIS  S.    SMITH. 


NOVEMBER   EIGHTH. 

HPAKE  heed  how  you  build.  That  which  you  are 
J-  doing,  the  work  which  you  are  performing,  you 
do  not  leave  behind  you  because  you  forget  it.  Every 
stroke,  every  single  element  abides,  and  there  is  noth- 
ing that  grows  so  fast  as  character.  —  HENRY  WARD 

BEECHER. 

Great  Builder,  from  whose  perfect  thought 
Burst  like  a  flower  creation's  plan, 

Whose  mighty  hand  through  ages  wrought 
To  shape  a  dwelling-place  for  man. 

Not  with  Thy  wisdom  or  Thy  might 
Can  we,  Thy  children,  build  to-day, 

Since  Thou  couldst  poise  the  stars  of  light, 
And  hold  them  on  their  shining  way. 

Builder  divine !  beside  each  rope 
Let  Thy  bright  angels  stand  to-day, 

Angels  of  Patience,  Faith,  and  Hope, 
Unseen  our  corner-stone  to  lay. 

EMILY   HUNTINGTON  MILLER. 

I'd  rather  my  body  a  temple  should  be, 

Where  Jesus  my  Master  would  stay, 
Than  have  all  the  wealth  of  the  kingdoms,  and  see 

Him  driven  forever  away. 

AMELIA   M.    STARKWEATHER. 

Yes,  ye  are  temples,  too,  of  Time, 

Wherein  as  acolytes  those  dwellers  be 

Till  called  to  highest  worship  in 
The  Temple  of  Eternity. 

WILLIAM  ROSS  WALLACE. 

[319] 


NOVEMBER   NINTH. 

"  TF  "  is  a  very  little  word,  but  a  great  deal  depends 
J-  upon  it.  We  should  accomplish  wonders,  were 
there  no  //'s  to  hinder  us  ;  we  should  reach  the  pinnacle 
of  fame,  achieve  great  success,  be  useful  and  happy, 
great  and  good,  if  this  little  word,  and  all  that  it  im- 
plies, were  not  in  our  way.  Then,  too,  we  should  have 
nothing  to  regret,  because  in  looking  back  over  our 
past  we  should  not  need  to  reproach  ourselves.  It 
seems  to  me,  the  best  plan  would  be  to  live  so  that  we 
would  have  very  little  use  for  this  word.  Faithfulness 
to  duty  will  save  regrets  for  lost  opportunities ;  kind- 
ness to  others  will  prevent  many  a  heartache ;  right 
living  and  a  personal  recognition  of  our  obligations  to 
God  would  keep  us  from  suffering  pangs  of  sorrow 
and  remorse.  If  we  will  only  open  our  eyes  to  our 
duties  and  see  what  needs  doing,  this  little  word  would 
not  interfere  so  much  with  our  happiness. 

If  we'd  lingered  a  moment  longer, 

Or  lingered  not  quite  so  long ; 
If  we'd  been  but  brave  and  stronger, 

Or  not  quite  so  brave  and  strong ; 

If  we'd  been  but  a  little  wiser, 

Been  truer  or  not  so  true ; 
If  we'd  done  this,  that,  or  the  other  — 

In  short,  what  we  did  not  do  — 
We'd  have  smiles  in  the  place  of  weeping, 

Have  joy  in  the  place  of  pain  ; 
Our  grief  would  be  turned  to  pleasure, 

Our  loss  be  turned  to  gain. 

CARLOTTA  PERRY. 


NOVEMBER   TENTH. 

AH,  the  fair  land  we  call  To-morrow,  how  we  look 
forward  to  it,  how  we  reach  out  for  it,  and  long 
to  grasp  it  before  the  sunset  of  To-day!  But  it  is 
always  just  a  little  beyond  us,  and  hurry  as  we  will,  we 
can  never  catch  it  and  hold  it  fast.  It  is  the  silent 
mystery  that  is  ever  yet  to  be  revealed ;  the  time  we 
hope  and  wait  for,  and  which  never  comes,  the  time 
which  when  we  greet  it  shall  not  be  To-morrow,  but 
To-day!  God  grant  that  all  of  your  To-days  may  be 
worthy  of  His  Better  Day,  the  beautiful  To-morrow  of 
Immortality! 

There's  a  beautiful  land  that  still  beckons  me  on, 

With  many  a  clustering  flower ; 
Where  the  pale  buds  of  hope  doth  ever  expand, 
And  the  nightingale's  song  is  sweet  in  the  land, 

In  the  beautiful  land  of  To-morrow. 

ELIZA   SHERMAN. 

Oh,  thou  to-morrow!     Mystery! 
Oh,  day  that  ever  runs  before! 
What  has  thy  hidden  hand  in  store 
For  mine,  to-morrow,  and  for  me  ? 
Oh,  thou  to-morrow!     What  hast  thou 
In  store  to  make  me  bear  the  now? 

JOAQUIN  MILLER. 

What  though  to-day  is  dark  and  drear, 

And  sorrow  now  lies  o'er  us, 
All  will  be  well  —  we  banish  fear  — 

To-morrow's  bright  before  us! 

RICHARD   H.    TITHERINGTON. 
A  21  [321] 


NOVEMBER   ELEVENTH. 

NO  life  is  all  brightness ;  no  season  is  all  sunshine ; 
would  you  have  it  so?  You  would  soon  weary  of 
the  dull  monotony.  If  you  never  had  a  trial,  never 
shed  a  tear,  you  would  soon  be  ready  to  exclaim,  "  Life 
is  not  worth  living!  "  If  you  had  sunshine  always,  you 
would  tire  of  the  brilliant  glare,  and  long  for  the  rest- 
ful shade.  God  knew  this,  and  He  has  wisely  ordered 
all  things.  Oh,  thank  God  for  the  shadows ;  they 
help  you  to  appreciate  the  light.  Thank  God  for  the 
discipline  and  trials,  they  make  you  nobler  and  better, 
if  you  accept  them  with  sweet  submission. 


Bright  shines  the  sun,  but  brighter  after  rain ; 

The  clouds  that  darken  make  the  sky  more  clear ; 
So  rest  is  sweeter  when  it  follows  pain, 

And  the  sad  parting  makes  our  friends  more  dear. 

'Tis  well  it  should  be  thus  :  our  Father  knows 
The  things  that  work  together  for  our  good ; 

We  draw  a  sweetness  from  our  bitter  woes  — 
We  would  not  have  all  sunshine  if  we  could. 

Wait,  then,  my  soul,  and  edge  the  darkening  cloud 
With  the  bright  gold  that  Hope  can  always  lend  ; 

And  if  to-day  thou  art  with  sorrow  bowed, 
Wait  till  to-morrow  and  thy  grief  shall  end ! 

And  when  we  reach  the  limit  of  our  days, 
Beyond  the  reach  of  shadow  and  of  night, 

Then  shall  our  every  look  and  voice  be  praise 
To  Him  who  shines  our  everlasting  Light. 

HENRY  BURTON. 


NOVEMBER  TWELFTH. 

LOVE  is  its  own  perennial  fount  of  strength.  The 
strength  of  affection  is  a  proof,  not  of  the  worthi- 
ness of  the  object,  but  of  the  largeness  of  the  soul 
which  loves.  Love  descends,  not  ascends.  The 
might  of  a  river  depends  not  on  the  quality  of  the  soil 
through  which  it  passes,  but  on  the  inexhaustibleness 
and  depth  of  the  spring  from  which  it  proceeds.  The 
greater  mind  cleaves  to  the  smaller  with  more  force 
than  the  other  to  it.  A  parent  loves  the  child  more 
than  the  child  the  parent,  and  partly  because  the 
parent's  heart  is  larger,  not  because  the  child  is 
worthier.  The  Saviour  loved  His  disciples  infinitely 
more  than  His  disciples  loved  Him,  because  His  heart 
was  infinitely  larger.  Love  trusts  on  —  ever  hopes 
and  expects  better  things  ;  and  this  is  a  trust  springing 
from  itself  and  out  of  its  own  deeps  alone. 

It  is  this  trusting  love  that  makes  men  what  they 
are  trusted  to  be,  so  realizing  itself.  Would  you  make 
men  trustworthy?  Trust  them.  Would  you  make 
them  true  ?  Believe  them.  —  CORNELIA  TALCOTT 
BUXTON. 


Rare  gems  and  stately  mansions 

Are  but  the  price  of  gold ; 
But  love  is  aye  God-given 

And  never  bought  or  sold. 
It  is  the  soul's  glad  sunshine ; 

It  is  the  heart's  sweet  rest ; 
And,  rich  or  poor,  in  loving 

We  are  forever  blest. 

ADELAIDE   D.    REYNOLDS. 


[323] 


NOVEMBER  THIRTEENTH. 

THE  man  or  woman  without  a  purpose  is  never 
happy.  No  matter  how  much  wealth  you  may 
have,  or  how  you  may  be  situated  in  life,  have  some- 
thing to  live  for.  You  may  have  ill-health,  and  be 
obliged  to  spend  your  days  in  a  quiet  room  away  from 
the  busy  world,  but  you  can,  even  then,  have  a  pur- 
pose. Some  of  the  most  wonderful  inventions  have 
been  wrought  by  invalids :  some  of  the  sweetest  les- 
sons of  patience  have  been  learned  in  the  sick-room ; 
some  of  the  most  beautiful  thoughts  have  blossomed 
into  deeds  that  sprung  from  the  hearts  of  those  who 
were  suffering  physical  pain,  and  yet  who  were  wield- 
ing a  powerful  influence  for  good.  Do  not  allow 
yourself  to  live  without  a  purpose :  it  is  a  poor  sort 
of  living.  God  meant  you  for  something  better  than 
that.  Learn  what  your  capabilities  are,  and  make 
use  of  them. 

Oh!  how  sadly  do  we  need 

Some  grand  purpose  in  our  lives, 

Some  strong  faith  that  gives  no  heed 
To  the  doubt  that  in  us  strives, 

But  can  see  in  all  our  days 

Opportunities  to  raise 

Needy  souls  to  better  ways. 

HATTIE  TYNG  GRISWOLD. 

Self-ease  is  pain ;  thy  only  rest 

Is  labor  for  a  worthy  end  ; 
A  toil  that  gains  with  what  it  yields, 

And  scatters  to  its  own  increase ; 
And  hears,  while  sowing  outward  fields, 

The  harvest-song  of  inward  peace. 

JOHN  G.   WHITTIER. 
[324] 


NOVEMBER   FOURTEENTH. 

WHAT  possibilities  are  yours!  Do  not  envy  your 
neighbor  his  chances ;  yours,  doubtless,  are  far 
better  adapted  to  you  than  his  would  be,  though  per- 
haps you  do  not  think  so.  Every  new  day  that  dawns 
is  a  fresh  opportunity:  it  is  like  the  marble  in  the 
quarry  waiting  for  you  to  chisel  out  of  it  some  beauti- 
ful thing  —  some  lasting  monument  of  purity  and  grace 
that  shall  stand  for  you  when  your  earth-life  is  ended. 
Remember  that  God  gives  you  the  marble  to  make  of 
it  what  you  will. 

The  marble  was  pure  and  white, 

Though  only  a  block  at  best ; 
But  the  artist  with  inward  sight 

Looked  further  than  all  the  rest, 
And  saw  in  the  hard  rough  stone, 
The  loveliest  statue  the  sun  shone  on. 

So  he  set  to  work  with  care 

And  chiselled  a  form  of  grace  — 
A  figure  divinely  fair, 

With  a  tender,  beautiful  face, 
But  the  blows  were  hard  and  fast 
That  brought  from  the  marble  that  work  at  last. 

So,  I  think  that  human  lives 

Must  bear  God's  chisel  keen, 
If  the  spirit  yearns  and  strives 

For  the  better  life  unseen, 
For  men  are  only  blocks  at  best, 
Till  the  chiselling  brings  out  all  the  rest. 

ANONYMOUS. 
[325] 


NOVEMBER   FIFTEENTH. 

THE  Indian  Summer  lingers  with  us  still.  Our  sky 
yet  wears  its  rose  and  amber  tints,  half-screened 
in  clouds  of  hazy  autumn  mists.  The  season  waits  and 
rests  midway  between  the  blossom  and  the  snow,  and 
softly  blends  the  Summer's  gold  and  Winter's  sombre 
hues,  and  throws  her  gray  autumnal  veil  between. 
Half  glad  are  we,  half  sorry,  and  our  hearts  know 
scarcely  if  they  joy  or  grieve  the  most.  The  passing 
year  with  all  its  splendor  dies,  and  yet  before  us  happy 
Winter  days  draw  nigh,  and  every  season,  whether 
bright  or  fair,  must  have  its  share  of  glory  and  of 
gloom.  We  will  not  doubt ;  but  thankful  take  the 
beauty  of  the  Indian  Summer  home  and  wear  its  royal 
splendors  in  our  heart.  When  Winter  frowns  and 
lowers,  when  skies  are  grim  and  dark,  we  will  not  fear 
nor  fret,  if  lighted  with  a  gladness  from  within. 


A  wave  of  Summer's  overflow, 

A  fugitive  which  went  astray, 

That  on  its  passage  lost  its  way ; 

A  prelude  of  an  Autumn  dirge, 

An  interlude  on  Winter's  verge, 

A  narrow  space  Hwixt  flower  and  snow ; 

An  afterthought,  an  afterglow, 

A  smile  upon  the  waning  year, 

A  ray  to  shine  through  nature's  tear, 

When  Sol  sends  down  his  mildest  rays 

Upon  us  on  these  Autumn  days. 

It  beams  with  hope,  and  clouds  with  fear 

This  Indian  Summer  of  the  year. 

AMOS  BRYANT  RUSSELL. 
'        [326] 


NOVEMBER   SIXTEENTH. 

IT  is  an  excellent  plan  to  have  some  place  where  we 
can  go  to  be  quiet  when  things  vex  or  grieve  us. 
There  are  a  good  many  hard  times  in  this  life  of  ours, 
but  we  can  always  bear  them  if  we  ask  help  in  the  right 

Way.  —  LOUISA   M.    ALCOTT. 

It  is  a  rest  for  us  to  hide  our  hearts  from  the  world 
for  a  season  and  have  Christ's  sweet  peace  come  down 
to  us  to  refresh  and  comfort  us  while  in  the  midst  of 
our  duties.  Oh,  when  we  are  tired  and  distressed,  why 
is  it  we  will  not  go  and  unburden  our  hearts  to  God  ? 
We  are  sorry  for  others  who  are  storm-tossed  and 
driven,  but  refuse  to  find  refuge  ourselves.  Let  us 
trust  God  at  all  times,  and  in  quiet  confidence  go  to 
Him  with  everything. 

And  often  the  pity  which  we  bestow 

On  the  lot  of  the  lowly  here  below, 

Would  be  changed  to  pleasure  could  we  but  see 

How  calm  and  peaceful  a  life  may  be, 

Wherein  abideth  content  and  trust, 

And  the  deep  assurance  that  God  is  just. 

HATTIE  TYNG   GRISWOLD. 

Oh,  hearts  that  live  without  Him! 

How  lonely  ye  must  be  — 
Who  cannot  read  the  message 

He  giveth  you  and  me  — 
His  comfort  sweet  and  tender, 

His  words  which  soothe  or  plead, 
Oh,  not  to  feel  His  presence 

'Twere  sorrowful  indeed! 

IDA  SCOTT  TAYLOR. 
[327] 


NOVEMBER   SEVENTEENTH. 

T~)  EMEMBER  your  influence  :  be  careful  what  you 
•AX-  do  and  say,  for  somehow,  or  somewhere,  and  at 
some  time  it  will  come  back  to  you.  Do  not  imagine 
any  word  or  act  of  yours  is  valueless  :  in  years  to  come, 
perhaps,  it  will  spring  up  and  bear  good  or  evil  fruit, 
and  help  or  hinder  your  hope  for  Eternal  Life.  The 
idle  word  you  may  carelessly  speak  to-day  will  not  be 
forgotten ;  the  kind  deed  you  may  do  will  not  be  lost. 
Oh,  remember  this !  Each  one  of  us  is  born  to  exert 
an  influence  over  some  one  else.  Therefore,  weigh 
your  words,  and  measure  your  deeds,  lest  they  should 
prove  a  stumbling-block  to  your  neighbor.  Nothing 
is  too  small  to  escape  the  eye  of  God  —  nothing  in  His 
sight  is  ever  lost. 

I  love  to  believe  that  no  heroic  sacrifice  is  ever  lost ; 
that  the  characters  of  men  are  moulded  and  inspired 
by  what  their  fathers  have  done  ;  that,  treasured  up  in 
American  souls  are  all  the  unconscious  influences  of 
the  great  deeds  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  from  Agin- 
court  to  Bunker  Hill. — JAMES  A.  GARFIELD. 

And  naught  than  this  is  noble ; 

To  hold  what  we  possess, 
As  but  divine  ordaining, 

The  lives  of  men  to  bless. 
To  make  it  light  to  mourners, 

A  help  to  those  who  fall, 
A  fragrance  sweet  to  others, 

And  fuller  life  to  all ! 

W.   W.   HALLOWAY,  JR. 
[328] 


NOVEMBER   EIGHTEENTH. 

DID  you  ever  think  what  a  terrible  thing  false 
judgment  is?  Did  you  ever  try  to  realize  how 
much  harm  it  has  done?  You  could  not  calculate  the 
amount  if  you  were  to  try  until  the  end  of  time.  Friend- 
ships have  been  destroyed,  hearts  broken,  and  homes 
wrecked  because  of  it :  it  has  been  the  cause  of  a  great 
deal  of  misery  in  the  world.  Let  me  urge  you,  this 
November  day,  to  be  careful  how  you  judge :  be  con- 
tinually on  the  look-out,  lest  you  should  be  tempted 
to  misconstrue  a  word  or  action ;  find  something  to 
commend,  rather  than  condemn,  in  those  around  you. 
Are  you  free  from  censure  ?  Have  you  no  faults  ?  Do 
you  make  no  mistakes  ?  If  you  are  so  imperfect  your- 
self, you  cannot  afford  to  judge  others. 

And  you,  who  judge  so  harshly, 

Are  you  sure  the  stumbling-stone 
That  tripped  the  feet  of  others 

Might  not  have  bruised  your  own? 
Are  you  sure  the  sad-faced  angel 

Who  writes  your  errors  down, 
Will  ascribe  to  you  more  honor 

Than  him  on  whom  you  frown? 

MAY  RILEY   SMITH. 

Is  it  worth  while  that  we  jostle  a  brother 
Bearing  his  load  on  the  rough  road  of  life  ? 

Is  it  worth  while  that  we  jeer  at  each  other 
In  blackness  of  heart?  that  we  war  to  the  knife? 
God  pity  us  all  in  our  pitiful  strife. 

JOAQUIN  MILLER. 
[329] 


NOVEMBER   NINETEENTH. 

GOD  does  not  exact  more  of  you  than  you  are  able 
to  do.  You  may  take  it  upon  yourself  to  over- 
work your  brain  and  body,  but  He  does  not  require  it 
of  you.  Dr.  L.  M.  Glover  once  said,  "  There  is  a  ten- 
dency in  these  times  to  undertake  too  much,  more  than 
individuals  are  equal  to,  and  hence  there  is  a  scatter- 
ing of  forces  and  the  weakening  of  power  for  good." 
This  is  perfectly  true :  you  cannot  expect  to  do  your 
best  when  you  have  exhausted  either  physical  or  men- 
tal strength.  You  are  to  simply  do  your  part,  and  not 
attempt  things  beyond  you.  Persistent  effort  and  calm 
patience  will  accomplish  wonders. 

Do  not  strive  to  fill  an  angel's  part, 

Without  an  angel's  wing ; 
But,  as  it  is,  thy  human  heart 

To  God,  thy  Maker  bring. 
His  patience  never  doth  abate 

Howe'er  we  sin  and  fall ; 
Be  patient  with  thyself,  and  wait 

Till  patience  conquers  all. 

Use  thy  powers  unto  the  uttermost ; 

Let  no  talent  dormant  lie ; 
That  thou  hast  not  greater  glory 

Do  not  sorrow,  do  not  sigh ; 
Not  accomplishment,  but  striving 

Is  thy  virtue,  child  of  earth, 
And  thy  striving,  here,  or  elsewhere, 

Into  glory  must  have  birth. 

ELIZABETH  BAKER  BOHAN. 


[330] 


NOVEMBER  TWENTIETH. 

WHATEVER  you  do,  put  your  heart  into  it.  The 
heart  is  the  centre  of  life,  and  if  your  motives 
and  principles  do  not  spring  from  your  heart,  they  will 
have  no  life  in  them  —  they  are  dead  and  purposeless. 
The  Divine  command  is,  "  Do  with  thy  might  what  thy 
hand  findeth  to  do."  May  God  give  you  a  heart  for 
your  task,  whether  great  or  small,  and  keep  you  stead- 
fast and  true,  even  in  the  midst  of  failures ! 

When  we  have  tried  with  all  our  best  endeavor, 

And  spared  our  work  no  cost, 
It  is  not  well  to  sit  us  down  for  failure, 

And  count  the  battle  lost. 

For  God  may  have  a  surer  way  of  reckoning, 

And  call  our  losses  gain. 
Better  to  save  our  strength  for  untried  conflicts, 

Not  waste  in  bootless  pain. 

Our  evening-time  may  be  all  light  with  glory 

Our  day's  success  has  won, 
Since  God  has  counted  all  our  faithful  efforts 

As  finished  work  well  done. 

A.    C.    SCAMMEL. 

Who  strive,  but  fail  to  win,  their  scars  will  gain  them 

hearing ; 
Whose  feet  have  early  worn,  nor  loosed  the  pilgrim 

shoon, 

May  still  press  on,  unfaltering  and  unfearing ; 
Whose  song  is  truly  keyed,  the  King  will  catch  the 

tune. 

MARTHA  C.   OLIVER. 


NOVEMBER  TWENTY-FIRST. 

T  EARN  to  "  make  haste  slowly."  The  man  who  is 
J — '  always  in  a  hurry  fumes  and  frets  a  great  deal, 
and  makes  confusion  wherever  he  goes,  but  as  a  usual 
thing,  accomplishes  very  little.  It  is  well  to  use  speed 
at  the  right  time  and  in  the  right  way,  but  don't  sputter 
and  bluster  around  and  make  a  great  fuss  about  nothing. 
You  will  be  just  as  useful,  and  a  great  deal  happier,  if 
you  learn  to  take  things  in  moderation.  God  only 
expects  you  to  do  as  much  as  you  are  able. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Deems  is  the  author  of  these  lines :  — 

"  The  world  is  wide 
In  time  and  tide 
And  —  God  is  guide : 

Then,  do  not  hurry. 

"That  man  is  blest 
Who  does  his  best 
And  —  leaves  the  rest : 

Then,  do  not  worry? 

They  are  very  good  verses  to  remember,  and  act 
upon.  However,  there  are  times  when  we  need  to  use 
haste.  Be  slow  to  speak,  but  quick  to  hear.  Be  quick 
in  sympathy,  kindness,  and  helpfulness. 

If  you  something  pleasant  hear 

About  someone  you  know,  my  dear, 

Make  haste  —  to  make  great  haste  'twere  well, 

To  him  or  her  the  same  to  tell ; 

For  such  news  has  a  golden  way, 

Of  lighting  up  a  cloudy  day. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[332] 


NOVEMBER   TWENTY-SECOND. 

WHAT  glory  lies  around  us!  The  Frost  has  been 
doing  his  work,  and  there  are  traces  everywhere 
of  his  presence.  A  pearl-gray  haze  seems  enveloping 
every  object ;  a  mistiness  enshrouds  the  atmosphere  ; 
and  roof,  tree,  and  ground  are  overspread  with  a  veil 
of  delicate  frost.  The  crisp  brown  leaves  that  still 
cling  to  their  friendly  branches  are  adorned  with  a  fret- 
work of  silver,  and  the  gnarled  old  trunks  are  turned 
into  exquisite  works  of  art.  All  nature  glitters  and 
sparkles  on  a  frosty  Autumn  morning. 

He  comes,  —  he  comes,  —  the  Frost  Spirit  comes !    You 

may  trace  his  footsteps  now 
On  the  naked  woods  and  blasted  fields  and  the  brown 

hill's  withered  brow. 
He  has  smitten  the  leaves  of  the  gray  old  trees  where 

their  pleasant  green  came  forth, 
And  the  winds,  which  follow  wherever  he  goes,  have 

shaken  them  down  to  earth. 

JOHN   GREENLEAF  WHITTIER. 

The  pane  is  etched  with  wondrous  tracery ; 

Curve  interlaced  with  curve  and  line  with  line, 
Like  subtle  measures  of  sweet  harmony, 

Transformed  to  shapes  of  beauty  crystalline. 

All  these  the  genii  of  the  Frost  last  night 
Wrought  through  the  still  cold  hours  by  charm  and 
rune ; 

And  now,  like  dreams  dispelled  before  the  light, 
They  float  away  in  vapor  on  the  noon. 

CHARLES   LOTIN   HILDRETH. 
[333] 


NOVEMBER   TWENTY-THIRD. 

THE  secret  of  success  of  one  of  England's  most 
learned  men  was  bound  up  in  four  little  words 
which  he  took  as  a  motto  —  "  I'll  think  of  it."  And 
although  to-day  we  may  think  it  a  little  thing  to  think, 
let  us  learn  that  it  is  the  power  that  moves  the  world. 
That  it  is  the  great  drive-wheel  of  progress  driving, 
with  its  propelling  force,  humanity  from  wrong  to 
right ;  driving  it  from  the  dark  shades  of  barbarity 
into  the  sunlit  regions  of  civilization ;  lifting  it  higher, 
step  by  step,  into  that  glorious  realm,  manhood.  And 
so  surely  as  terrestrial  power  is  drawn  from  the  sun,  so 
surely  is  the  propelling  power  and  influence  over  man 
drawn  from  that  fountain  ever  rich  and  full,  the  mind. 

—  ANONYMOUS. 


The  mind  is  like  the  costly  stone 

Dark  in  its  native  bed, 
Till  Education's  light  hath  shone 

And  Science'  beam  is  shed. 
But  when  the  diamonds  of  the  mind 

A  kindling  ray  have  caught, 
Golconda's  pride  is  dim  beside 

The  flashing  gems  of  thought ! 

JULIA   WALLACE. 

Learn  something  new  every  day,  that  your  mind  may 
reach  greater  heights  and  have  deeper  depths.  The 
only  real  exercise,  the  only  true  aid  to  the  development 
of  the  mind,  is  thought.  Unless  you  learn  to  think, 
life's  beautiful  truths  will  be  lost  to  you.  Take  as 
your  motto,  "  I'll  think  of  it." 

[334] 


NOVEMBER   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

HOW  many  hearts  have  ached,  how  much  sorrow 
has  been  caused  through  Pride  and  Distrust. 
There  is  a  certain  kind  of  pride  which  is  very  stubborn 
and  obstinate,  and  when  once  it  is  well  rooted  in  our 
hearts,  it  is  very  hard  to  get  rid  of.  If  you  have  that 
kind  of  pride,  I  beseech  you  to  begin  at  once  to  uproot 
it,  and  do  not  rest  until  not  a  vestige  is  left  of  it.  It  is 
unyielding,  unforgiving,  hard,  and  stern ;  it  is  un- 
Christ-like,  and  rejoices  in  saying, "  I  never  apologize." 
It  is  the  twin-brother  to  Distrust,  and  has  no  kinship 
whatever  to  Happiness.  It  builds  a  wall  between 
friends  so  high  and  wide  that  Love  cannot  see  over  it, 
and  Sympathy  cannot  break  it  down.  Have  you  lost  a 
dear  friend  in  this  way?  Is  your  foolish  pride  building 
a  thick  wall  between  you  ?  Then  you  are  unhappy  — 
no  one  can  enjoy  life  who  is  the  slave  of  such  masters 
as  these.  Put  aside  your  pride,  and  if  you  have  aught 
against  a  friend,  forgive  it,  and  let  there  be  no  barrier 
between  you. 

Who  built  the  wall  ?     Distrust,  my  friend, 

First  laid  the  corner-stone, 
While  Pride  cemented  all  the  rest, 

And  so  the  wall  has  grown. 

Come,  let  us  tear  the  barrier  down 

That  keeps  us  two  apart ; 
Let  us  again  walk  hand  in  hand, 

Let  heart  respond  to  heart : 
Oh,  let  forgiveness  sweet  and  full 

Blot  out  the  troubled  past  — 
Sweet  Love,  who  rights  all  human  wrongs. 

Break  down  the  wall  at  last! 

ALICE   LINNETTE   LEACH. 
[33S] 


NOVEMBER  TWENTY-FIFTH. 

ND  therefore,  I,  William  Bradford  (by  the  grace 

of  God  to-day, 
And  the  franchise  of  this  good  people),  Governor  of 

Plymouth,  say 
Thro'  virtue  vested  power  —  ye  shall  gather  with  one 

accord, 
And  hold  in  the  month  of  November,  thanksgiving 

unto  the  Lord." 

MARY  J.    PRESTON. 
(Poem  on  the  first  Thanksgiving  Day,  A.D.  1622.) 

The  thankful  heart  is  full  of  gratitude  at  all  seasons 
of  the  year,  but  joyfully  sets  apart  one  royal  day  in 
which  to  be  especially  thankful.  As  the  Sabbath  is 
the  crown  of  the  week,  so  is  Thanksgiving  Day  the 
crown  of  the  year  in  which  jewels  of  praise  shine  with 
brightest  lustre ! 

We  thank  Thee,  O  Father  of  all,  for  the  power 
Of  aiding  each  other  in  life's  darkest  hour ; 
The  generous  heart  and  the  bountiful  hand 
And  all  the  soul-help  that  sad  souls  understand. 

We  thank  Thee,  O  Father,  for  days  yet  to  be, 
For  hopes  that  our  future  will  call  us  to  Thee,  — 
That  all  our  eternity  form,  through  Thy  love, 
One  Thanksgiving  Day  in  the  mansions  above. 

WILL   CARLETON. 

For  the  year  of  peace  and  plenty, 
And  for  blessings  without  end, 

Let  the  voices  of  the  people 
In  Thanksgiving  praises  blend. 

GEORGE   C.    RHODERICK,   JR. 
[336] 


NOVEMBER   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

T  T  7HATEVER  else  we  may  or  may  not  do,  we  can 

*  V  at  least  be  faithful.  Whatever  doors  of  oppor- 
tunity may  be  closed,  this  is  always  open.  Whatever 
talents  may  be  denied,  ability  for  this  is  always  given. 
Faithfulness  —  it  is  a  path  usually  obscure,  often  un- 
pleasant, not  seldom  painful :  a  path  so  plain  that 
seldom  can  the  weakest  fail  to  find  it,  a  path  so  diffi- 
cult sometimes  that  the  most  heroic  are  tested  to  tread 
it.  Faithful!  how  much  is  gathered  within  the  com- 
pass of  that  single  word ;  what  a  wealth  it  expresses  of 
love  and  devotion  and  courage  and  fortitude  and  loy- 
alty ;  what  a  wealth  it  suggests  of  noble  deeds  that  the 
world  holds  in  unforgetting  memory.  Be  faithful. 
What  higher  need  of  friendship  is  there  than  a  faithful 
friend ;  what  stronger  commendation  of  truth  than  a 
faithful  witness ;  what  stronger  confirmation  of  cove- 
nant than  "  He  is  faithful  that  promised "  ?  —  ELA 
THOMAS. 

Earth  is  but  a  school  for  Heaven, 

Youth  and  beauty  fade  away ; 
He  who  toileth,  ever  faithful, 

Joyous  is  at  close  of  day. 
God  is  watching  all  our  life-work, 

Early  morning,  noon,  and  night, 
Whether  it  be  honest,  earnest, 

Pure,  unselfish  in  His  sight. 

LUCY  Y.    CULLER. 

Full  of  vows  and  full  of  labor, 
All  our  days  fresh  duties  bring, 

First  to  God  and  then  our  neighbor ; 
Christian  life  is  an  earnest  thing. 

ANONYMOUS. 
A  22  [337] 


NOVEMBER   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

YOU  are  tempted  even  in  your  thoughts.  There  is 
not  a  day  that  passes  but  temptations  meet  you 
in  some  form,  but  if  you  are  able  to  overcome  them, 
you  are  all  the  stronger  and  better  for  them.  It  is  not 
best  to  seek  temptations  that  you  may  try  your  powers 
of  resistance.  You  are  never  safe  without  God:  you 
are  always  safe  with  Him.  Therefore,  in  every  hour 
of  temptation  trust  in  Him,  and  His  strong  arm  shall 
uphold  you. 

And  while  in  peace  abiding 

Within  a  shelter'd  home, 
We  feel  that  sin  and  evil 

Could  never,  never  come ; 
But  let  the  strong  temptation  rise, 

As  whirlwinds  sweep  the  sea  — 
We  find  no  strength  to  'scape  the  wreck, 

Save,  pitying  God,  in  Thee! 

SARAH   JOSEPHA   HALE. 

Clothe  me  with  Thy  love, 
And  rescue  me,  and  let  me  trample  down 
All  evil  thoughts,  and  from  my  baser  self 
Climb  up  to  Thee. 

THOMAS  BAILEY  ALDRICH. 

I  hold 

Those  lives  far  nobler  that  contend  and  win 
The  close,  hard  fight  with  beautiful,  fierce  Sin, 
Than  those  that  go  untempted  to  their  graves, 
Deeming  the  ignorance  that  haply  saves 
Their  souls,  some  splendid  wisdom  of  their  own. 

CONSTANCE   FENIMORE   WOOLSON. 

[338] 


NOVEMBER   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

NOW,  believe  me,  God  hides  some  ideal  in  every 
human  soul.  At  some  time  in  our  life  we  feel  a 
trembling,  fearful  longing  to  do  some  good  thing. 
Life  finds  its  noblest  spring  of  excellence  in  this  hidden 
impulse  to  do  our  best.  God  is  standing  silently  at 
the  door  all  day  long,  —  God  whispering  to  the  soul, 
that  to  be  pure  and  true  is  to  succeed  in  life,  and  what- 
ever we  get  short  of  that  will  burn  up  like  stubble, 
though  the  whole  world  try  to  save  it.  —  ROBERT  COLL- 

YER. 

The  child  looks  over  the  cradle, 
The  youth  frowns  down  the  boy ; 

Ripe  manhood,  with  girded  armor, 
Feels  youthful  pleasures  cloy ; 

And  age,  from  Wisdom's  summit, 
Deems  all  below  alloy. 

So  I  fling  abroad  this  maxim, 

For  all  to  digest  who  will : 
You  may  scale  the  heights  of  genius, 

Your  soul  with  nectar  fill, 
But  you  never  can  reach  a  station 

But  there's  some  place  higher  still. 

The  home  is  more  than  the  dwelling, 
The  heart,  than  the  home,  is  more ; 

The  loving  outvies  the  living, 
For  love  is  Life's  golden  store ; 

And  the  halo  o'er  all  is  the  spirit 
Immortal,  when  life  is  o'er. 

LOUISE  S.  UPHAM. 

Remember,  that,  no  matter  how  high  you  climb  in 
this  world,  there  is  some  place  higher  still. 
[339] 


NOVEMBER   TWENTY-NINTH. 

HAVE  you  ever  thought  how  solemn  a  thing  it  is 
to  live?  If  you  are  grateful  for  your  life,  set  a 
value  on  it :  find  out  how  much  it  is  worth,  and  if  it 
falls  below  what  you  would  have  it,  begin  to  increase 
its  value.  Take  as  your  motto, "  For  God  and  Human- 
ity," and  live  up  to  it.  Be  consistent  and  conscien- 
tious ;  live  for  a  purpose ;  have  faith  in  God  and  man ; 
be  full  of  hope  and  love,  and  resolve  to  make  as  much 
out  of  life  as  you  can. 

Looking  to  conscience  inquiringly, 

Thoughtlessness  seemeth  a  sin ; 
Working  and  striving  untiringly, 

So  must  the  battle  begin. 
Faith,  hope,  and  love  will  inspiringly 

Teach  us  how  life  we  may  win. 

May  we  do  our  duty  darefully, 

Strengthening  careworn,  oppressed ; 

Threading  our  way  ever  carefully 
Through  snares,  to  the  Home  of  the  blest ; 

Hopefully,  cheerfully,  prayerfully, 
Finding  in  Heaven  a  rest. 

EMILY   THORNTON   CHARLES. 

Earth  holds  but  one  true  good,  but  one  true  thing, 
And  this  is  it  —  to  walk  in  honest  ways 
And  patient,  and  with  all  one's  heart  belong 
In  love  unto  one's  own!     No  death  so  strong 
That  life  like  this  he  ever  conquers,  slays ; 
The  centuries  do  to  it  no  hurt,  no  wrong : 
They  are  eternal  resurrection  days. 

HELEN  HUNT  JACKSON. 
[340] 


NOVEMBER   THIRTIETH. 

'"T^HE  last  day  of  Autumn!  Now  is  the  Summer 
-»-  ended  and  the  harvest  past,  and  the  brief  year 
hastening  to  its  close.  How  has  the  time  fared  with 
you?  Have  you  laid  up  a  goodly  winter  store?  Has 
your  mind  and  soul,  as  well  as  your  body,  enough  to 
feed  upon  during  the  season  of  cold  and  snow?  Not 
so  much  need  to  urge  you  to  look  after  the  physical 
wants,  as  for  your  mental  and  spiritual  welfare.  If 
you  have  been  gleaning  truths  from  Nature's  fields  and 
meadows,  and  drinking  from  the  fountains  of  Wisdom 
all  the  year  through,  surely  you  will  have  a  profitable 
Winter.  If  your  soul  has  read  new  meanings  in  God's 
lessons  for  you,  and  you  have,  through  them,  been 
brought  nearer  to  Him,  this  has  indeed  been  to  you  a 
happy  and  profitable  year.  Oh,  give  of  your  gifts  to 
others!  that  when  the  Autumn  of  life  is  ended,  the 
good  seed  you  have  sown  may  have  increased  an  hun- 
dred fold,  yielding  a  glorious  harvest  for  Eternity. 

Then  labor  well,  that  in  death  you  go 

Not  only  with  blossoms  sweet,  — 
Not  bent  with  doubt,  and  burdened  with  fears, 
And  dead,  dry  husks  of  the  wasted  years,  — 

But  laden  with  golden  wheat. 

ELIZA  O.    PIERSON. 

Ah,  my  soul!  look  well  and  see 
How  the  record  stands  with  thee 
Of  each  swiftly  passing  day 
Vanishing  so  soon  away, 
Leaving  good  or  evil  trace 
Which  no  time  can  e'er  efface. 

CORNELIA  J.    M.   JORDAN. 
[341] 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF   DECEMBER. 


DECEMBER  FIRST. 

FAR  down  the  sombre-tinted  north, 
Where  Argol  leads  his  train  of  suns, 
Gray  Winter's  herald  issues  forth 
And  casts  his  mantle  as  he  runs. 

M.   H.  COBB. 

And  now,  across  the  face  of  Time  a  shadow  falls. 
We  greet  the  Twelfth  Month  drawing  near,  and  cry, 
"  You  come  too  soon :  our  year's  good  work  is  not  half 
done." 

Dear  December,  white  and  hoary, 

Half  in  sadness  does  he  come, 
For  he  tells  us  he  will  gather 

All  the  Old  Year's  children  home ; 
And  he  carries,  as  he  greets  us, 

Wreaths  of  holly,  —  with  a  glow 
That  is  red  like  winter  firesides  — 

Twined  with  pearls  of  mistletoe ; 

'Cross  the  uplands,  down  the  valleys 

We  can  hear  his  gentle  tread  — 
There  is  winter  all  around  him 

Over  all  the  landscape  spread  ; 
Hark,  he  sings!  "O  earth,  awaken! 

See  the  dawn  of  peace  appear! 
Lo,  I  bring  the  Saviour's  Birthday  — 

Tis  the  glory  of  the  year! " 

IDA  SCOTT  TAYLOR. 
[342] 


ELIZABETH  STUART   P HELPS 


DECEMBER   SECOND. 

LET  this  new  month  be  a  trustful  season  to  you. 
Look  up  to  God,  and  put  your  faith  in  Him. 
Allow  no  doubts  to  cloud  your  belief  in  Him  and  His 
almighty  power.  Do  not  be  disturbed  about  the  future 
—  He  takes  care  of  that ;  your  part  is  only  to  be  ready 
for  it  when  it  comes.  Just  remember  that  you  could 
not  create  a  day  if  you  were  to  spend  a  lifetime  trying, 
while  with  Him  "  a  thousand  years  are  but  as  a  day," 
because  He  holds  all  worlds  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand. 


O  Lord,  how  happy  should  we  be 
If  we  could  cast  our  care  on  Thee, 

If  we  from  self  could  rest ; 
And  feel  at  heart  that  One  above 
Is  perfect  wisdom,  perfect  love, 

Is  working  for  the  best. 

How  far  from  this  our  daily  life, 
How  oft  disturbed  by  anxious  strife, 

By  sudden  wild  alarms. 
Oh,  could  we  but  relinquish  all 
Our  earthly  props,  and  simply  fall 

On  Thine  almighty  arms ! 

JOSEPH  ANSTICE. 


My  God,  I  humbly  come  to  Thee, 
To  shield  me  in  temptation's  hour ; 

From  trust  in  self,  oh!  keep  me  free, 
And  free  from  trust  in  human  power. 

MRS.   L.    H.    PHELPS. 

[343] 


DECEMBER  THIRD. 


O 


IN  wings  a  sweet  deed  flies! 

MYRON   B.  BENTON. 


Prove  your  life  by  your  deeds.  Let  each  day  bear 
witness  that  you  have  a  heart  and  soul  within  you, 
and  that  they  are  not  bound  up  within  the  narrow  limits 
of  your  own  breast.  Reach  out  in  tenderness  to  others  : 
be  generous ;  be  charitable ;  be  ready  with  your  sym- 
pathy in  time  of  need.  It  is  not  the  man  with  the 
greatest  fame  nor  the  largest  purse  whose  name  lives 
the  longest.  It  is  he  whose  deeds  have  been  like  way- 
side blossoms  —  springing  up  into  beauty  and  fragrance 
wherever  he  goes. 

There  are  lives  that  crowd 
Actions  pure,  lofty,  proud, 

Into  brief  years  — 
Deeds  that  high-hearted  men, 
Counting  three-score-and-ten, 

Read  through  their  tears. 

MARGARET  J.   PRESTON. 

One  kindly  deed  may  turn 

The  fountain  of  thy  soul 
To  love's  sweet  day-star,  that  shall  o'er  thee  burn 

Long  as  its  currents  roll ! 

OLIVER  WENDELL   HOLMES. 

As  ships  meet  at  sea,  a  moment  together,  when  words 
of  greeting  must  be  spoken,  and  then  away  into  the 
deep,  so  men  meet  in  this  world  ;  and  I  think  we  should 
cross  no  man's  path  without  hailing  him,  and,  if  he 
needs,  giving  him  supplies.  —  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 
[344] 


DECEMBER  FOURTH. 

A  SUNSHINY  disposition  is  a  gift  from  God. 
There  are  many  whose  minds  are  filled  with 
gloomy  thoughts,  and  who  look  on  the  dark  side  of 
everything.  Such  people  cannot  radiate  sunshine  until 
they  fill  their  minds  with  brighter,  happier  thoughts. 
This  is  not  an  easy  matter,  for  when  gloomy  thoughts 
receive  encouragement  to  remain,  it  is  hard  to  displace 
them  with  more  cheerful  ones.  ...  If  we  go  persist- 
ently to  work  to  cultivate  a  sunshiny  disposition  our 
efforts  will  at  length  be  rewarded,  and  we  shall  be  the 
possessors  of  a  brightness  and  cheeriness  scarcely  dis- 
tinguishable from  that  bestowed  as  a  natural  gift. 

—  ALICE  LORRAINE  GRIGGS. 

There  is  a  shady  side  of  life, 

And  a  sunny  side  as  well, 
And  'tis  for  every  one  to  say 

On  which  he'd  choose  to  dwell ; 
For  every  one  unto  himself 

Commits  a  grievous  sin, 
Who  bars  the  blessed  sunshine  out, 

And  shuts  the  shadows  in. 

Then  wear  a  happy  heart,  my  friend, 

And  fix  your  faith  above ; 
A  Heavenly  Father  may  afflict, 

But  does  it  all  in  love. 
And  they  who  strive  to  do  His  will, 

And  read  His  word  aright, 
With  songs  of  triumph  on  their  lips, 

Walk  always  in  the  light. 

JOSEPHINE  POLLARD. 
[345] 


DECEMBER   FIFTH. 

IF  we  keep  our  eyes  open,  we  shall  behold  many 
good  and  beautiful  things  as  we  pass  through  the 
world.  Our  most  desirable  possessions  are  those  that 
last  the  longest ;  who  would  be  willing  to  spend  half 
a  fortune  for  something  "  which  perisheth  with  the 
using  "  ?  Some  toil  for  a  lifetime  that  they  may  leave 
behind  them  a  famous  record ;  some,  that  they  may 
accumulate  great  wealth  ;  others,  that  they  may  lay  up 
vast  stores  of  learning ;  and  still  others,  that  they  may 
search  out  God's  truths  and  lay  hold  on  eternal  life. 

Life  hath  its  evil  days, 

Time  hath  its  changeful  ways, 

But,  purpose  high, 
Truth  set  in  perfect  thought 
Great  deeds  in  concert  wrought, 
(Thou  may'st  be  counted  naught), 

These  shall  not  die. 

MRS.   E.   E.    MARCV. 


.  .  .  Give  me,  Lord,  eyes  to  behold  the  truth 

A  seeing  sense  that  knows  the  eternal  right ; 

A  heart  with  pity  filled,  and  gentlest  ruth  ; 

A  manly  faith  that  makes  all  darkness  light : 

Give  me  the  power  to  labor  for  mankind ; 

Make  me  the  mouth  of  such  as  cannot  speak  :; 

Eyes  let  me  be  to  groping  men  and  blind ; 

A  conscience  to  the  base ;  and  to  the  weak 

Let  me  be  hands  and  feet ;  and  to  the  foolish,  mind : 

And  lead  still  further  on  such  that  Thy  kingdom  seek. 

THEODORE  PARKER. 
[346] 


DECEMBER   SIXTH. 

IS  life  monotonous,  do  you  think?  Do  you  weary  of 
the  daily  routine  of  cares  and  duties?  Are  not  we 
all  restless,  dissatisfied  human  beings,  unless  we  have 
the  peace  within  ?  Do  you  not  know  that  it  is  the  oft- 
repeated  task  that  brings  you  the  greatest  happiness  ? 
It  is  hard,  of  course,  to  keep  doing  the  same  thing  over 
and  over  again,  but  that  is  God's  plan  for  us :  it  is  His 
plan  for  Nature  too.  Suppose  the  sun  should  weary  of 
shining,  then  we  should  have  no  beautiful  sunlight; 
suppose  the  rain  should  grow  tired  of  falling,  our  earth 
would  soon  be  parched  and  dry.  Suppose  you  and  I 
should  refuse  to  do  our  duty,  because  it  is  monotonous, 
what  kind  of  record  would  we  have  hereafter?  Do  not 
allow  yourself  to  turn  against  your  life-work:  take  it 
up  cheerfully  and  patiently,  and  if  you  make  mistakes, 
do  not  mind :  take  heart,  and  begin  over.  Mistakes 
do  not  always  mean  failures,  sometimes  they  prove  to 
be  doors  to  opportunities  leading  to  a  higher  life. 

Every  day  is  a  fresh  beginning ; 
Listen,  my  soul,  to  the  glad  refrain, 

And  spite  old  sorrow  and  older  sinning, 
And  puzzles  forecasted  and  possible  pain, 
Take  heart  with  the  day,  and  begin  again. 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

Stumbling  so  oft  and  with  weary  pain, 
Struggling  to  rise  and  to  fall  again ; 
Making  resolves  with  the  morning  light, 
Finding  them  naught  with  the  shades  of  night ; 
Cumber'd  with  care  for  the  days  to  come, 
Where  have  I  built  for  the  Heav'nly  home? 

BELLE   KELLOGG   TOWNE. 
[347] 


DECEMBER   SEVENTH. 

BE  loyal  to  your  country!  If  you  are  an  American, 
honor  America  and  her  stripes  and  stars;  —  no 
matter  where  you  are,  be  true  to  your  colors.  Our  flag 
stands  for  freedom,  and  every  son  and  daughter  of 
Columbia  should  know  and  understand  its  meaning 
and  hold  it  sacred.  What  the  Bible  is  to  the  Christian, 
the  flag  is  to  the  patriot :  one  stands  for  God  and 
Heaven,  the  other  stands  for  Freedom  and  America. 
Every  boy  and  girl  in  the  country  should  revere  the 
stripes  and  stars,  for  what  they  represent ;  it  should 
be  a  part  of  the  education  in  our  schools,  that,  next 
to  God  and  home,  the  true  American  should  love  the 
American  flag. 

Flag  of  the  free  heart's  hope  and  home, 

By  angel  hands  to  valor  given! 
Thy  stars  have  lit  the  welkin  dome, 

And  all  thy  hues  were  born  in  Heaven. 
Forever  float  that  standard  sheet ! 

Where  breathes  the  foe  that  falls  before  us ; 
With  Freedom's  soil  beneath  our  feet, 

And  Freedom's  banner  streaming  o'er  us. 

JOSEPH   RODMAN  DRAKE. 

"  God  bless  our  stars  forever  ! " 

It  is  Liberty's  refrain, 
From  the  snows  of  wild  Nevada 

To  the  sounding  woods  of  Maine ! 

BENJAMIN   F.  TAYLOR. 

Higher,  lift  higher  your  banner  unfurled, 
Wave  it  unsullied,  the  pride  of  the  world! 

MARIA   STRAUB. 

[348] 


DECEMBER   EIGHTH. 

*T*HERE  is   always  something  sweet  to  look  back 
•A-    upon,  and  something  bright  to  look  forward  to ; 
present  griefs  and  troubles  will  not  last  long.     Forget 
your  worries,  and  remember  your  blessings. 

Oh,  soul  of  mine!  what  makes  you 

Grieve  and  fret? 
Why  brood  so  o'er  the  shadow 

We  have  met? 
Why  not  recall  the  hours 
Of  sunshine,  and  the  flowers? 
And  all  the  dreary  showers 
Of  tears  that  have  been  ours 

Just  forget. 

What  secret  trouble  stirs  thy 

Fluttering  breast? 
Why  let  it  rob  thee  of  Heaven's 

Rich  bequest? 

Dost  thou  not  know  that  calm 
Content's  the  healing  balm 
That  soothes  each  gnawing  qualm 
And  makes  our  life  a  psalm 

Of  peaceful  rest! 

Then  cheer  up,  soul  of  mine!     Be 

Not  downcast. 
The  troubles,  worries,  will  not 

Always  last. 

Forget  the  things  behind ; 
Press  bravely  on  ;  you'll  find 
The  future  ne'er  divined 

By  the  past. 

M.  j.  MCLKOD. 

[349] 


DECEMBER   NINTH. 

WHAT  a  glorious  thing  human  life  is,  ...  and 
how  glorious  man's  destiny.  —  HENRY  w.  LONG- 
FELLOW. 

We  go  into  the  very  plan  of  God  for  us,  and  are  led 
along  in  it  by  Him,  consenting,  co-operating,  answering 
to  Him  we  know  not  how,  and  working  out  with  nicest 
exactness,  that  good  end  for  which  His  unseen  counsel 
girded  us  and  sent  us  into  the  world.  In  this  manner, 
not  neglecting  other  methods,  but  gathering  in  all 
their  separate  lights,  to  be  interpreted  in  the  higher 
light  of  the  Spirit,  we  can  never  be  greatly  at  a  loss  to 
find  our  way  into  God's  counsel  and  plan.  The  duties 
of  the  present  moment  we  shall  meet  as  they  rise,  and 
these  will  open  a  gate  into  the  next,  and  we  shall  thus 
pass  on,  trustingly  and  securely,  almost  never  in  doubt 
as  to  what  God  calls  us  to  do.  —  HORACE  BUSHNELL. 

The  future  works  out  great  men's  destinies ; 
The  present  is  enough  for  commmon  souls, 
Who,  never  looking  forward,  are  indeed 
Mere  clay  wherein  the  footprints  of  this  age 
Are  petrified  forever. 

JAMES   RUSSELL   LOWELL. 

So  was  it  destined :  and  thus  came  I  here 
To  walk  the  earth  and  wear  the  form  of  Man, 
To  suffer  bravely  as  becomes  my  state, 
One  step,  one  grade,  one  cycle  nearer  God. 

THOMAS   BAILEY   ALDRICH. 

No  man  or  woman  born, 
Coward  or  brave,  can  shun  his  destiny. 

WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 
[3S°] 


DECEMBER   TENTH. 

DID  you  ever  lose  your  way  on  a  dark  night,  though 
just  within  sight  of  your  own  door?  Every  step 
of  the  path  was  familiar,  and  yet  you  lost  it.  Ah,  it 
was  because  the  darkness  enveloped  you,  and  you  had 
nothing  to  guide  you.  So  it  is,  when  your  doubts 
overwhelm  you,  anrl  shut  out  Heaven  and  God,  and 
the  pathway  that  has  seemed  so  familiar  to  you  when 
lighted  by  the  lamp  of  Faith,  grows  suddenly  dark  and 
dreary,  and  you  giope  along  blindly  trying  to  touch 
the  old  landmarks,  and  endeavoring  to  find  again  the 
old  beaten  track.  You  may  try  your  hardest,  but  you 
will  never  find  the  Light  unless  you  lay  aside  your 
doubts :  roll  back  the  heavy  clouds  of  darkness,  and 
let  God's  glory  stream  into  your  soul.  Look  above 
you!  Heaven  is  not  far  off  to  those  who  believe.  You 
are  not  lost,  but  only  blinded  by  doubts ;  ask  the  dear 
Heavenly  Father,  and  He  will  show  you  the  way  Home. 

Show  me  the  way  to  that  calm,  perfect  peace, 
Which  springs  from  inward  consciousness  of  right, 

To  where  these  conflicts  with  the  flesh  shall  cease, 
And  self  shall  radiate  with  the  Spirit's  light. 

Tho1  hard  the  journey  and  the  strife,  Lord,  pray, 
Show  me  the  way. 

ELLA  WHEELER. 

Thou  must  lead  me,  and  no  other ; 
Truest  Lover,  Friend,  and  Brother, 
Thou  art  my  soul's  shelter,  whether 
Stars  gleam  out  or  tempests  gather; 

In  Thy  presence  night  is  day ; 

Show  me  Thy  way. 

LUCY   LARCOM. 

[351] 


DECEMBER   ELEVENTH. 

T  EARN  all  you  can,  in  every  way  you  can,  that  is 
-•— '  worth  learning.  The  humblest  friend  you  have 
may  prove  your  greatest  teacher,  if  you  are  willing  to 
learn.  The  smallest  events  in  your  life  may  prove 
means  to  a  great  end,  if  you  will  make  them  so.  Keep 
rising;  let  your  intellectual  wings  grow  and  spread 
every  day ;  never  allow  yourself  to  feel  that  your  school- 
days are  over;  always  be  glad  to  count  yourself  a 
learner  in  Life's  school.  Bring  out  the  hidden  treas- 
ures of  your  mind ;  keep  them  buried  no  longer,  but  let 
them  be  brought  into  action  —  let  them  rise  to  seek 
the  light  of  Truth  and  Wisdom. 

Do  you  covet  learning's  prize? 

Climb  her  heights  and  take  it ; 
In  ourselves  our  future  lies  ; 

Life  is  what  we  make  it. 

ANONYMOUS. 

The  stream  from  Wisdom's  well, 
Which  God  supplies,  is  inexhaustible. 

BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

What  warmth,  what  radiance  have  our  minds  reflected  ? 

What  rich  and  rare  materials  have  we  brought 
For  deep  investigation,  earnest  thought  ? 

Concealed  within  the  soul's  unfathomed  mine, 
How  many  a  sparkling  gem  remains  unwrought, 

That  Industry  might  place  on  Learning's  shrine, 

Or  lavish  on  the  world  to  further  God's  design. 

SARAH   F.   BOLTON. 

Every  mind  was  made  for  growth,  for  knowledge ; 
and  its  nature  is  sinned  against  when  it  is  doomed  to 
ignorance. 

W.    E.    CHANNING. 

[352] 


DECEMBER   TWELFTH. 

MY  prayer  to-day  is  for  the  homes  of  America  — 
may  they  all  be  happy  ones !  Sheltered  from  the 
December  blast,  as  you  sit  by  your  own  warm  firesides, 
my  heart  craves  for  you  the  blessing  of  a  peaceful, 
happy  home;  a  home  where  love  reigns,  and  where 
the  gentle  word  is  spoken,  and  where  there  are  sweet 
ministrations  and  kindly  deeds  of  affection.  There  is 
nothing  so  desirable  this  side  of  Heaven  as  a  home 
like  this,  and  I  trust  you  are  doing  your  part  toward 
making  your  home  such  an  earthly  paradise.  Remem- 
ber it  requires  patience,  self-sacrifice  and  forbearance, 
as  well  as  love,  to  make  a  truly  happy  home  —  such  a 
home  as  our  hearts  will  cling  to  with  loyal  tenderness 
through  all  the  changing  years. 

An  exile  from  home,  splendor  dazzles  in  vain! 
Oh,  give  me  my  lowly  thatched  cottage  again! 
The  birds  singing  gayly  that  come  at  my  call ;  — 
Give  me  them!  and  the  peace  of  mind  dearer  than  all. 

JOHN   HOWARD   PAYNE. 

The  world  moves  on,  its  progress  brings 
Grand  reforms,  undreamed-of  things  ; 
But  nothing  modern  can  fill  the  place 
Of  the  dear  old  home  and  mother's  face. 

MRS.    C.   JEWETT. 

With  the  same  letter  Heaven  and  Home  begin, 
And  the  words  dwell  together  in  the  mind : 

For  they  who  would  a  home  in  Heaven  win 
Must  first  a  Heaven  in  home  begin  to  find. 

JOSEPH    VERY. 
A  23  [353] 


DECEMBER  THIRTEENTH. 

HOW  marvellously  patient  God  is  with  us!  While 
we  are  harsh  and  unjust  with  each  other,  so 
ready  to  criticise  and  condemn,  He  bears  with  all  our 
shortcomings  gently  and  calmly,  yet  oh !  how  His  great 
tender  heart  must  grieve  for  us.  While  we  are  cold, 
proud,  and  unforgiving  toward  our  neighbor,  God  is 
still  patient  with  us,  when  we  are  so  unworthy  of  for- 
giveness ourselves.  While  we  are  walking  our  own 
worldly-wise  ways,  He  watches  our  steps,  has  patience 
with  us,  and  catches  us  when  we  fall.  Oh,  do  you 
think  God  ever  forgets  us?  No,  never.  Such  love 
and  such  patience  as  His  are  proofs  of  His  faithfulness 
to  us. 

We  meet  and  mingle :  we  mark  men's  speech  ; 

We  judge  by  a  guess,  by  a  fancied  slight ; 
We  give  our  fellows  a  mere  glance  each, 

Then  brand  them  forever  black  or  white. 

Meanwhile  God's  patience  is  o'er  us  all ; 

He  probes  for  motives  ;  He  waits  for  years ; 
To  Him  no  moment  is  mean  or  small, 

And  His  scales  are  turned  by  the  weight  of  tears. 

RICHARD   BURTON. 

God's  wonderful  patience  endureth  forever, 

No  matter  how  often  we  stumble  and  fall ; 
We  grieve  Him  and  hurt  Him,  and  yet  He  forgives  us  — 

His  tender  compassion  is  over  us  all. 
In  word  and  in  action  we  daily  offend  Him, 

Refusing  to  follow  the  choice  of  His  will ; 
Yet  though  we  may  wander  away  and  forget  Him, 

He  faithfully  loves  us  and  cares  for  us  still. 

IDA   SCOTT   TAYLOR. 
[354] 


DECEMBER   FOURTEENTH. 

RELIGION  is  a  spring  in  the  soul,  kept  full  by  the 
word  and  love  of  God.     It  quickens  unto  all  holy 
sympathy  and  activities ;  it  refreshes  the  world's  weari- 
ness;  it  gives  foretaste  of  Heaven's  joy.  —  DAVID  s. 
SCHAFF. 

There  being  in  man  a  sense  of  right  and  wrong, 
religion  becomes  a  most  potent  influence,  because  it 
announces  a  judgment-bar  before  which  all  must  stand. 
It  completes  the  theory  of  virtue  and  vice,  by  reminding 
the  soul  that  it  is  daily  approaching  a  final  rendering  of 
its  accounts. — DAVID  SWING. 

A  moral  character  is  a  splendid  thing  to  have  for 
this  world.  A  religious  character  is  an  essential  thing 
to  possess  for  the  next  world.  What  the  jewel  is  to  its 
setting,  or  the  keystone  to  the  arch,  that  the  soul  in 
which  the  love  of  God  dwells  is  to  all  else  that  consti- 
tutes a  true  man.  —  If  you  have  all  but  that,  be  ambitious 
to  possess  it  also.  With  it  you  are  gloriously  equipped. 
Without  it  you  miss  your  chief  glory.  —  ANONYMOUS. 

There  is  no  joy  like  that  of  the  Christian.  Religion 
is  a  stronghold,  a  rock  of  defence  where  the  storm- 
tossed  soul  may  find  refuge  and  peace.  The  surest 
way  to  be  happy  is  to  be  a  Christian. 

God's  angels  hovering  round  about  give  comfort  and 

relief — 
Give  faith,  strength,  courage  to  the  soul  to  utter  its 

belief — 

I  am  a  "  Christian.'' 

ELIZA   ALLISON   PARK. 

[ass] 


DECEMBER   FIFTEENTH. 

GOD  give  you  firmness  and  resolution!  You  need 
fresh  courage  and  fortitude  every  day.  It  makes 
no  difference  what  may  be  your  position  in  life,  you  are 
still  human ;  and  to  be  human  is  to  be  frail  —  easily 
tempted,  easily  wearied,  easily  discouraged  and  easily 
disheartened.  It  takes  a  brave  soul  to  stand  up  and 
face  life  and  not  be  baffled  by  its  overwhelming  cares 
and  perplexities :  he  must  have  strong  powers  of  en- 
durance, physical  and  mental,  and  a  sunshiny  dispo- 
sition besides.  We  need  more  courage,  and  more 
endurance.  We  need  courage,  not  only  individually, 
but  as  a  nation,  that  we  may  put  down  the  evils  that 
are  confronting  us,  that  we  may  become  better  and 
purer,  and  freer  from  intemperance,  false  doctrines,  and 
party  strife. 


Courage  is  first  and  last  of  what  we  need 
To  mould  a  nation  for  triumphal  sway : 

All  else  is  empty  air, 

A  promise  vainly  fair, 
Like  the  bright  beauty  of  the  ocean  spray 
Tossed  up  toward  Heaven,  but  never  reaching  there. 
Not  in  the  past,  but  in  the  future,  we 

Must  seek  the  mastery 
Of  fate  and  fortune,  thought  and  word  and  deed. 

THOMAS   WENTWORTH   HIGGINSON. 


The  wisdom  of  the  present  hour 
Makes  up  for  follies  past  and  gone ; 

To  weakness  strength  succeeds,  and  power 
From  frailty  springs  —  press  on!  press  on! 

PARK   BENJAMIN. 
[356] 


DECEMBER   SIXTEENTH. 

BECAUSE  earthly  friends  are  sometimes  forgetful 
of  you,  is  no  reason  why  your  Heavenly  Father 
should  be.    Ah,  no,  God  never  forgets. 


I  do  not  and  I  will  not 

Believe  that  God  forgets! 
I  know  that  life  is  weary, 

And  full  of  vain  regrets  ;  — 
Is  hard  and  sad  and  tearful 

And  holding  endless  pain ; 
But  the  tender  Christ  was  pitiful 

And  for  our  griefs  was  slain. 

I  do  not  and  I  will  not 

Believe  He  fails  to  hear, — 
That  the  sighing  and  the  crying 

Will  find  unwilling  ear. 
I  know  we  cannot  comprehend 

His  great,  His  wondrous  plan  ; 
But  oh!  the  Christ  was  pitiful 

And  brought  His  love  to  man. 

AUGUSTA  SCOTT  CAMPBELL. 

Fearest  sometimes  that  thy  Father 

Hath  forgot? 
When  the  clouds  around  thee  gather, 

Doubt  Him  not! 

Always  hath  the  daylight  broken, 
Always  hath  He  comfort  spoken, 
Better  hath  He  been  for  years 

Than  thy  fears. 

FANNIE  STEWART. 
[357] 


DECEMBER   SEVENTEENTH. 

WE  are  not  put  into  this  world  to  live  solely  for 
ourselves.  The  man  who  does  not  love  his 
brother  and  feel  an  interest  in  his  welfare  must  live  a 
miserable  life.  We  are  all  one  human  family,  children 
of  one  common  Father.  The  poorest,  lowliest  man 
has  as  much  right  to  the  air,  the  light,  and  the  freedom 
to  live,  as  the  richest  king  on  his  throne ;  God  made 
man  in  His  image  with  the  rights  and  privileges  to 
enjoy  equally  His  blessings.  Oh,  remember  this  bond 
of  brotherhood!  love  your  fellow-man  because  he  is 
the  son  of  your  Father.  Where  there  is  need  for  it, 
do  not  refuse  to  aid  him ;  do  not  always  stop  to  ask 
if  he  is  worthy :  Christ  was  kind  and  tender  with  every 
one. 

My  bosom  owns  the  brotherhood  of  man ; 
From  God  and  truth  a  renegade  is  he 
Who  scorns  a  poor  man  in  his  poverty, 

Or  on  his  fellow  lays  his  supercilious  ban. 

THOMAS  MACKELLAR. 

And  sneer  not  at  the  weakness 

Which  made  a  brother  fall, 
For  the  hand  that  lifts  the  fallen 

God  loves  the  best  of  all. 

MAY   RILEY   SMITH. 

How  good 
This  universal  bond  of  brotherhood, 

And  all  this  wide 

Strong,  equal-flowing  tide 
Of  human  love  and  human  charity. 

MAURICE  THOMPSON. 

[358] 


DECEMBER   EIGHTEENTH. 

KEEP  bravely  on  :  do  your  best,  and  leave  the  re- 
sults with  God.  Do  you  imagine  your  little 
kindnesses  are  unappreciated  because  you  are  not 
always  thanked  or  rewarded  for  them  ?  Do  you  think 
no  one  cares  that  you  make  sacrifices  and  do  the  very 
things  you  dislike  to  do?  Good  deeds  are  never  lost. 
Because  the  earth  is  desolate  and  bare  now,  and  the 
fields  are  brown  and  dead,  do  you  think  the  Summer 
will  never  smile  again?  Have  you  forgotten  the 
scattered  seed  that  is  waiting  its  time  to  grow?  Have 
you  forgotten  the  living  roots  that  are  waiting  their 
time  to  send  forth  life  and  beauty?  Dear  Friend,  where 
are  the  tiny  seeds  you  sowed  a  year  ago?  lost,  think 
you?  Ah,  no,  they  are  only  waiting  God's  time  to 
spring  up  in  some  heart  and  blossom  for  Eternity. 
Oh !  if  you  have  only  saved  one  soul  you  have  done  a 
grand  work.  By  and  by  you  shall  receive  your  reward. 

A  cup  of  cold  water,  in  the  Master's  name  given, 
Returns  in  a  shower  of  blessings  from  Heaven. 
If  service  so  poor  meets  so  rich  a  reward, 
Is  warmly  approved,  is  so  blest  of  our  Lord, 
The  joy-bells  of  Heaven  with  music  shall  ring 
If  one  to  the  fold,  only  one  we  may  bring ; 
But  those  who  win  many  from  error  away 
Shall  shine  as  the  stars  —  yea,  forever  and  aye! 

MARY  A.   LEAVITT. 

Sweet  recompense  He  gives  for  toil  and  tears, 
Sweet  balm  on  ev'ry  wounded  spirit  pours, 
You  shall  not  labor  vainly  all  your  years  — 
The  recompense  and  balm  shall  both  be  yours ! 

I.  s.  T. 
[359] 


DECEMBER   NINETEENTH. 

A  NNOUNCED  by  all  the  trumpets  of  the  sky, 
•i~\    Arrives  the  snow,  and  driving  o'er  the  fields, 
Seems  nowhere  to  alight :  the  whited  air 
Hides  hills  and  woods,  and  the  heaven, 
And  veils  the  farm-house  at  the  garden's  end. 

RALPH   WALDO   EMERSON. 

In  the  snow-time  of  the  year!  What  is  so  beautiful 
and  so  surprising  as  to  awaken  in  the  morning  of  a 
crisp  December  day,  and  find  the  world  has  turned 
white  in  a  single  night?  Without  a  sound,  steadily 
and  softly,  the  feathery  flakes  have  fallen,  until  roofs, 
fences,  and  trees  are  tufted  with  eider-down,  and  the 
bare  brown  hills  and  valleys  are  carpeted  with  fleecy 
whiteness.  The  leafless  trees  and  shrubs  have  blos- 
somed anew  into  wonderful  flowers,  as  white  as  June 
lilies,  and  the  whole  world  looks  as  pure  and  clean  as 
if  it  had  just  come  down  from  Heaven.  As  verdure  is 
the  glory  of  Spring,  so  is  snow  the  glory  of  Winter ;  the 
Wind-heralds  usher  in  both,  and  the  same  trumpets 
that  announced  the  coming  of  the  Spring,  blow  across 
the  wintry  valleys  to  proclaim  the  advent  of  the  silent 
snow. 

Under  the  snow  lie  sweet  things  out  of  sight, 
Crouching  like  birds  beneath  a  downy  breast ; 

They  cluster  'neath  the  coverlet  warm  and  white 
And  bide  the  winter-time  in  hopeful  rest. 

All  undismayed,  although  the  drifts  are  deep, 
All  sure  of  spring  and  strong  of  cheer  they  lie ; 

And  we,  who  see  but  snows,  we  smile  and  keep 
The  self-same  courage  in  the  by-and-by. 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

[360] 


DECEMBER   TWENTIETH. 

'"pRUTH   is   the   food   of  the   human  spirit  which 
J-    could  not  grow  in  its  majestic  proportions  with- 
out clearer  and  more  truthful  views  of  God  and  His 
universe.  —  JAMES  A.  GARFIELD. 

Very  few  of  us  can  look  back  over  the  past  year  and 
set  a  value  on  our  influence.  If  we  have  tried  to  do 
right,  and  have  been  scattering  the  seeds  of  truth 
wherever  we  went,  we  have  only  to  be  patient  for  the 
rest.  Even  if  we  do  not  live  to  see  our  thoughts  and 
deeds  blossom  into  fruit,  what  matter,  so  the  seed  is 
sown  ?  God  will  take  care  of  it. 

The  seeds  of  Truth  lie  scattered  o'er  the  land ;  — 
Thou  know'st,  O  Father,  where  they  fell ; 

But  breathe  upon  them  that 
They  may  spring  up  and  bring  forth  fruit ; 
Watch  o'er  and  water  them  :  for  Thou 
Can'st  touch  the  smallest,  feeblest  seeds 
And  fairest,  fertile  fields  of  waving  grain 

Shall  bud  and  bloom. 

EVA   MUNSON   SMITH. 

All  truth  is  no  less  dear,  or  radically  true. 
Whether  it  dawns  to-day  on  thoughts'  frontiers, 

Or  has  been  named,  belov'd,  and  had  its  work  to  do, 
Been  recognized,  and  anchored  by,  a  thousand  years. 

ISADORE   G.    JEFFERY. 

To  Truth's  house  there  is  a  single  door, 
Which  is  Experience.     He  teaches  best, 
Who  feels  the  hearts  of  all  men  in  his  breast, 
And   knows  their  strength   or  weakness  through   his 
own. 

BAYARD  TAYLOR. 
[361] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-FIRST. 

LONG   live  the  memory  of  our   Pilgrim   Fathers1. 
Our  hearts  are  filled  with  tenderness  as  we  think 
of  that  December  day  of  1620  when  they  landed  on 
our  bleak   New   England  shores,   their  brave   hearts 
ready  to  do  and  dare  for  God  and  truth. 

No  herald  announces  their  approach.  No  pomp  or 
parade  attends  their  advent.  "  Shielded  and  helmed 
and  weapon'd  with  the  truth,"  no  visible  guards  are 
around  them  either  for  honor  or  defence.  Bravely  but 
humbly,  and  almost  unconsciously,  they  assume  their 
perilous  posts,  as  pioneers  of  an  advance  which  is  to 
honor  no  backward  steps,  until,  throughout  this  West- 
ern Hemisphere,  it  shall  have  prepared  the  way  of  the 
Lord  and  of  liberty.  —  ROBERT  c.  WINTHROP. 

Wild  was  the  day ;  the  wintry  sea 

Moaned  sadly  on  New  England's  strand, 

When  first  the  thoughtful  and  the  free, 
Our  fathers,  trod  the  desert  land. 

WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

—  The  schoolboy  at  his  lesson  reads 
Th1  inspiring  record  of  your  deeds  ; 
The  public  eye  on  canvas  sees 
Your  conflicts  fierce,  and  victories ; 
The  monumental  shaft  is  reared 
To  keep  your  names  for  aye  revered. 

J.    HOOKER. 

Let  the  haughty  smile,  the  low  defame, 
The  heartless  worldling  mock  ; 

I  thank  my  God,  my  fathers  came 
Of  the  good  old  Pilgrim  stock! 

GRACE   GREENWOOD. 
[362] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-SECOND. 

WITH  some  people,  discontent  is  a  constitutional 
infirmity.  Born  under  the  malign  star,  they 
have  never  been  able  to  travel  beyond  its  influence. 
Change  of  condition  fails  to  improve  their  disposition. 
Like  sea-water,  prosperity  serves  to  increase  rather 
than  allay  their  thirst.  The  trouble  is  not  in  circum- 
stances, but  in  themselves.  If  put  back  in  paradise, 
they  would  be  dissatisfied  with  their  primitive  furnish- 
ings. How  such  unfortunate  persons  would  ever  be 
able  to  get  on  in  Heaven  is  more  than  we  are  able  to 
tell.  The  very  perfection  of  the  place  would  be  an 
annoyance  to  them,  and  the  sight  of  perfect  people 
would  be  sure  to  excite  in  them  the  most  unheavenly 
feelings.  The  prime  need  of  such  persons  is  a  consti- 
tutional regeneration.  —  DAVID  SHERMAN. 

True  Contentment  is  not  the  stagnation  of  the  soul 
without  aspiration  and  without  want.  It  is  the  repose 
of  the  soul  which  is  doing  its  best  and  which,  above 
all,  trusts  in  the  mercy  of  Heaven  to  cover  faults,  and 
the  goodness  of  Heaven  to  heal  wounds  and  satisfy 

hope.  —  DAVID   S.    SCHAFF. 

I  am  content  —  The  gay  of  earth 

May  revel  on  in  heartless  mirth ; 
The  rich  may  idly  spend  their  wealth  ; 

But  manly  toil  brings  manly  health. 
Let  those  who  will  from  labor  flee, 

A  life  of  usefulness  for  me! 
True  joy  with  toil  is  ever  blent, 

And  earnest  faith  —  I  am  content ! 

JULIA  A.   F.   CARNEY. 
[363] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-THIRD. 

MAY  this  be  a  day  of  well-doing,  —  a  day  of  loving 
ministrations  and  thoughtful  deeds!  As  you 
sit  alone  for  a  few  moments  this  morning,  make  your 
good  resolves  and  round  them  up  with  a  prayer.  Re- 
solve that  this  December  day  shall  be  a  beautiful  one 
to  remember  afterwards,  with  a  shining  record  of  your 
faithfulness  and  earnestness  of  purpose.  Give  some 
good  thing  into  Time's  keeping,  —  something  that  can- 
not be  marred  nor  ruined  through  all  the  cycles  to 
come ;  a  memento  that  shall  be  immortal.  Acquaint 
yourself  with  your  friend's  need,  your  neighbor's  need, 
and  do  your  best  to  supply  it. 

Of  sweets  we  have  garnered  from  life's  golden  cup 
Shall  not  weary  ones  taste  and  little  ones  sup  ? 
Why  hoard  up  life's  nectar  our  own  cups  to  fill, 
If  one  other  heart  we  might  comfort  or  thrill  ? 

Give!  give  from  Love's  largess,  and  more  shall  be 

poured ! 

Ah!  we  keep  that  we  give :  we  lose  that  we  hoard! 
To  give  is  to  grow  ;  to  withhold  maketh  poor ; 
To  have  but  to  hold,  makes  no  treasure  endure ; 
But  our  "  cups  of  cold  water,"  in  gems  crystallized, 
Are  set  in  the  crown  of  "  reward  "  in  the  skies ! 

MARY  A.   LEAVITT. 

The  secret  of  life,  —  it  is  giving, 

To  minister  and  to  serve ; 
Love's  labor  binds  the  man  to  the  angel, 

And  ruin  befalls,  if  we  swerve. 

LUCY  LARCOM. 
[364] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

T  T  TISHING  and  longing  are  not  enough,  even  praying 
VV  is  not  enough.  "  Faith  without  works  is  dead," 
we  are  told,  and  unless  we  live  our  creed,  mere  believ- 
ing will  do  no  good.  God  wants  earnest  thoughts, 
words,  and  deeds.  First,  think  the  good,  then  speak 
and  act  it.  Do  not  sit  with  folded  hands  idly  wishing 
to  lead  a  useful  life :  wishing  is  very  good  as  far  as  it 
goes,  but  the  trouble  is  it  often  ends  in  wishing.  The 
wish  is  fruitless  that  is  not  followed  by  the  deed. 


Give  me  a  heart  that  is  pure  and  true, 

Free  from  all  selfish  thought ; 
Grant  me  a  power  in  this  world  to  do, 

That  I  live  not  for  naught. 

NELLIE  G.   RICE. 


As  all  the  thoughts  of  our  heart 

Are  open  to  God's  view, 
How  careful  should  we  be 

To  have  them  pure  and  true. 

As  all  the  words  that  are  spoken 
Are  heard  by  the  God  above, 

How  careful  we  should  be 
To  have  them  words  of  love. 

As  all  the  deeds  of  our  life 
Are  seen  by  the  God  of  light, 

How  careful  we  should  be 
To  have  them  just  and  right. 

PHCEBE  CONOVER. 
[365] 


DECEMBER  TWENTY-FIFTH. 

"THIS  Christmas  morning:  Christmas  mirth 
J-    And  joyous  voices  fill  the  house. 

THOMAS  BAILEY  ALDRICH. 

A  happy  greeting!  Hail  the  Day  of  all  glad  days 
that  bless  the  year!  Oh,  may  the  peace  of  Christmas- 
tide  be  yours  in  heart  and  home  to-day,  and  may  a 
song  of  praise  ascend  from  happy  earth  to  Heaven 
above,  for  this  the  sweetest  gift  of  all  —  the  gift  of 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  the  King  and  Saviour  of  the 
world!  Bright  be  your  hearthstone,  glad  your  heart, 
and  may  the  song  the  angels  sang  of  "  Peace  on  earth, 
good-will  to  men !  "  find  echo  in  your  soul  to-day.  A 
merry  Christmas-tide  be  yours ! 

O  earth,  O  heart,  be  glad  on  this  glad  morn! 
God  is  with  man!     Life,  Life  to  us  is  born! 

LUCY  LARCOM. 

What  does  it  mean,  this  Christmas, 

Down  from  the  ages  sent? 
Out  of  the  lips  of  a  little  child, 

What  is  the  message  meant  ? 
Into  one  word  it  is  prisoned 

Struck  into  life  and  light ; 
Love  is  the  Christmas-tide  message 

Of  heavenly  power  and  might. 

MARGARET  SIDNEY. 

While  Thanksgiving  has  its  foundation  on  Plymouth 
Rock,    Christmas   rests  upon   the   Rock   of  Ages.  — 

CHARLES   DUDLEY   WARNER. 

[366] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

SO  ever :  the  curse  falls  void,  the  prayer  wins  the 
heart  of  the  world.  —  EDITH  M.  THOMAS. 

And  now,  while  our  hearts  are  warm  and  tender  with 
thoughts  of  Christ,  and  while  the  Christmas  chimes  are 
still  echoing  sweetly  across  the  snow,  let  us  offer  up  the 
incense  of  prayer  to  God,  and  dedicate  ourselves  to 
Him  anew  this  December  day.  For  pure,  patient 
spirits,  for  warm,  loving  hearts,  for  trusting,  obedient 
wills  let  us  pray;  and  as  the  year  drifts  nearer  and 
nearer  to  its  close,  may  we  be  filled  the  more  with 
longings  for  a  better,  a  higher,  and  more  consecrated 
life! 

On  the  altar  of  love 

Lit  with  fire  from  above, 
I  will  offer  the  incense  of  prayer ; 

To  Jesus  my  King 

I'll  my  sacrifice  bring, 
Ever  trusting  His  mercy  and  care. 

For  gleaming  afar 

Is  the  bright  Morning  Star, 
Through  the  cloud-rifts  it  ever  shines  fair. 

In  reverence  sweet 

I  fall  at  His  feet 
And  offer  the  incense  of  prayer. 

In  the  darkness  of  grief 

I  will  find  sweet  relief, 
When  I  offer  the  incense  of  prayer ; 

With  this  blessing  is  given 

A  foretaste  of  Heaven, 
To  feel  the  sweet  spirit  of  prayer. 

JENNIE   F.    SNELL. 
[367] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

THAT  man  is  wisest  who  accepts  his  lot 
Yet  mends  it  where  he  can  —  Glad  if  there  grows 
Some  lowly  flower  beside  his  lonely  cot, 
E'en  while  he  plants  and  tends  his  Alpine  rose. 

There  are  some  thirsty  souls,  all  sick  and  faint 
With  longing  for  the  cup  that  is  denied ; 

Would  they  but  stoop  and  drink,  without  complaint, 
From  the  near  stream,  and  so  be  satisfied. 

There  are  some  hungry  hearts  that  well-nigh  break 
With  the  dull  soreness  of  mere  emptiness. 

To  fill  the  void  and  soothe  the  weary  ache, 
Let  them  strive  some  other  hearts  to  bless. 

There  are  some  idle  hands  that  reach  afar 
For  wider  mission,  some  great  work  of  fame ; 

Would  they  but  grapple  in  life's  daily  war, 
Rewards  await  them  nobler  than  a  name. 

O  thirsty  souls !     O  hungry  hearts,  and  hands, 
Weary  with  idleness !  take  what  you  may 

Of  proffered  good ;  accept  life  as  it  stands, 
And  make  the  most  of  its  swift-fleeting  day. 

ELLEN   P.   ALLERTON. 


Most  people  would  succeed  in  small  things  if  they 
were  not  troubled  with  great  ambitions.  —  HENRY  w. 

LONGFELLOW. 


Accept  what  God  sends  as  your  portion,  willingly, 
cheerfully. 

[368] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

/"CHRISTIANS!  it  is  your  duty  not  only  to  be  good, 
V-*  but  to  shine;  and,  of  all  the  lights  which  you 
kindle  on  the  face,  Joy  will  reach  farthest  out  to  sea, 
where  troubled  mariners  are  seeking  the  shore.  Even 
in  your  deepest  griefs,  rejoice  in  God.  ...  If  I  had 
been  made  a  firefly,  it  would  not  become  me  to  say, 
"  If  God  had  only  made  me  a  star,  to  shine  always, 
then  I  would  shine."  It  is  my  duty,  if  I  am  a  firefly, 
to  fly  and  sparkle,  and  fly  and  sparkle ;  not  to  shut  my 
wings  down  over  my  phosphorescent  self,  because  God 
did  not  make  me  a  sun  or  a  star.  —  HENRY  WARD 

BEECHER. 

A  beacon  bright  the  Christian  stands 

Upon  the  shore  of  time  ; 
A  lighthouse  built  on  solid  rock, 

That  rears  its  head  sublime. 

A  tower  high  a  Christian  stands, 

A  clear  and  shining  light, 
To  cast  a  gleam  across  the  sea 

Of  earth's  dark,  gloomy  night. 

Grand  sentinel  upon  life's  coast, 

Be  faithful,  true,  and  brave ; 
And  ever  keep  your  light  ablaze, 

Benighted  souls  to  save. 

MRS.    E.   W.    CHAPMAN. 

Children  of  light,  like  the  stars  of  the  midnight, 
Guiding  earth's  weary  ones  home  to  their  rest, 

Shine  for  the  heart  that  is  burdened  with  anguish  ; 
Cheer  up  the  lonely,  the  sad,  and  oppressed. 

M.    E.    SERVOSS. 
A  24  [369] 


DECEMBER  TWENTY-NINTH. 

THE  joys  we  lose  are  but  forecast, 
And  we  shall  find  them  all  once  more ; 
We  look  behind  us  for  the  Past, 
But  lo,  'tis  all  before! 

ANONYMOUS. 


Hope  never  dies,  no  matter  how  cold  the  winter,  how 
dark  the  sky,  nor  how  despondent  the  heart.  You  may 
think  sometimes  when  you  are  tried  and  worried,  or 
when  grief  almost  overwhelms  you,  that  the  brightness 
has  all  gone  out  .of  your  life,  but  lo,  the  sunshine  of 
Hope  breaks  through  before  you  are  hardly  aware  of  it. 
Trials  and  discouragements  are  our  common  portion, 
but  God  sends  His  angel  of  Hope  to  smile  upon  us,  and 
bid  us  take  heart  again. 

So,  within  the  human  heart, 

Through  the  cheerless  clouds  of  care, 
Hope,  with  heavenly  light  looks  down, 

Beautiful  and  fair. 
Joy  and  gladness  come  again, 

From  the  soul  all  sorrow  flies, 
And  life's  darkness  disappears 

As  the  winter  dies. 

EUGENE  J.    HALL. 


Hope  on,  hope  on!     Though  friends  be  few, 

And  dark  the  way  before  thee, 
A  God  of  love,  from  Heaven  above, 

Shall  shed  His  radiance  o'er  thee. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[370] 


DECEMBER  THIRTIETH. 

HAS  this  year  been  a  disappointment  to  you  ?  Have 
your  achievements  fallen  short  of  your  expecta- 
tions? Ah,  doubtless  you  wanted  more  than  God 
thought  was  best  for  you.  Perhaps  you  were  too  am- 
bitious. You  may  have  been  ambitious  in  the  wrong 
direction,  and  although  you  have  prayed  earnestly  and 
labored  faithfully  to  obtain  your  heart's  desire,  it  may 
be  He  has  withheld  it  from  you  in  loving  kindness, 
knowing  just  what  was  best  for  you.  O  Friend,  be 
patient!  Go  on  in  the  path  of  Duty,  and  may  God 
watch  over  and  bless  you  and  crown  you  at  last,  among 
His  chosen  ones  who  are  found  worthy  in  His  sight! 


Oh!  wait,  impatient  heart! 
As  Winter  waits  ;  her  song-birds  fled, 
And  every  nestling  blossom  dead. 

Beyond  the  purple  seas  they  sing ; 
Beneath  soft  snows  they  sleep  ; 
They  only  sleep.     Sweet  patience  keep, 

And  wait,  as  Winter  waits  for  Spring. 

MRS.    LUTHER   KEENE. 


Is  thy  work  still  uncompleted  ? 

Trust  and  wait. 
Are  thy  cherished  hopes  defeated? 

Trust  and  wait. 
Fret  not  at  the  poor  endeavor, 
All  to  God  commit  forever ; 
He  will  disappoint  thee  never. 

Trust  and  wait. 

ANNA  HOLYOKE  HOWARD. 
[371] 


DECEMBER   THIRTY-FIRST. 

DEAR  Heart,  the  Year's  last  day  has  dawned  for 
you  and  me.  Oh,  Memory  walks  with  us.  We 
take  a  backward  look,  and  ask  ourselves  in  earnest 
quest,  "How  have  I  spent  the  Year — the  Year  that 
with  the  coming  night  must  die  ? "  How  sweet  our 
blessings  all  have  been!  Whatever  grief,  or  pain,  or 
tears  have  shadowed  days  that  we  have  lived,  above  us 
God  has  set  His  bow  of  promise  in  the  bending  skies, 
and  thankfully  we  review  the  past,  exclaiming,  "  God  is 
just  and  wise  and  good ;  His  hand  hath  led  us  all  the 
Year!  "  Oh,  may  your  years  flow  sweetly  on,  and  each 
be  better  than  the  last,  until  the  Master  gathers  home 
to  Heaven  the  Eternal  Years !  and  may  the  New  Year 
dawn  in  peace,  and  bring  its  blessings  and  good  cheer, 
and  in  its  dawn  may  brighter  hopes  and  sweeter  joys 
be  stored  away  to  gladden  you  the  whole  year  through! 

Let  the  New  Year  bring  what  it  will,  O  friend, 

Nothing  have  we  to  fear. 
The  past  it  was  good ;  let  the  good  past  lend 

The  future  its  glow  and  cheer.  , 

Patient  to  suffer  or  brave  to  do, 

What  can  we  have  to  fear? 
Old  years  are  His,  and  His  the  new  — 

He  can  make  it  a  glad  New  Year. 

MARY  L.    DICKINSON. 

I  wish  you  not  only  a  happy  New  Year,  but  a  happy 
Eternity!  —  w.  s.  PLUMER. 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York 


Acknowledgments  are  due  to  Charles  Wells  Moulton, 
editor  of  the  "Magazine  of  American  Poetry"  and  to 
Eva  Munson  Smith,  author  of  "  Woman  in  Sacred 
Song,"  for  permission  to  cull  from  their  publications  ; 
and  'also  to  a  number  of  -writers  herein  represented. 
—  LS.T. 


•• '•' "III  HUH  HUH     I  I     II    I    I    (I 

A     000  1 08  740     2 


J 


